


where lost things roam

by kagehinataboke



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Romance, Humor, M/M, Minor Violence, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehinataboke/pseuds/kagehinataboke
Summary: When a group of traveling merchants arrives in his town, Killua unknowingly stumbles upon a spirit trapped inside an old antique vase. He promises to grant Killua a wish if he can help him find his lost body: a deal that’s hard to resist when one is as poor and desperate as he is.How did someone manage to misplace something as important as a body, you ask? Even Gon himself doesn’t seem to know, but Killua can tell he’s starting to get oddly attached to the idiot, which definitely isn’t good. To make matters even worse, others are after Gon’s promised wish—like stuck-up pirate captain Kurapika and annoying rookie officer Leorio.With nothing but bad luck on his side, Killua is beginning to worry that his first adventure may be his last.





	where lost things roam

**1 - the boy in the vase**

* * *

The day Killua meets him, a storm is brewing on the horizon. The scent of rain hangs heavy in the air, and a strong wind from the east flattens the evergreen trees at the edges of the forest. From the roof of the inn, Killua can see dark clouds creeping closer and closer to the village, extending skeletal hands of lightning. It will be upon them any minute now.  
****

“Zoldyck, get down from there!” the innkeeper hollers irritably from his front stoop. “How many times do I have to tell you not to climb on my roof?!”

“Sorry,” he lies, grabbing the edge of the gutter to swing himself down. He could care less about what this geezer tells him he can and can’t do. “There’s a storm coming in fast. I’m going to warn the shipyard master.”

The innkeeper grabs him by the shirt collar. “Not so fast, kid. There are foreign merchants coming into town and I need all the help I can get to keep their grubby hands off my things.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Killua grumbles, smacking his hand away. “Find some stableboy to watch your stuff, old man.”

“Little brat.” The innkeeper grabs him again before he can run. “You need money, right? I’ll pay you, so just stand by the stables and use those special skills of yours to keep thieves out.”

‘Skills’ is a pretty term for the things Killua knows how to do... but he _does_ need the money. Living on his own as a freelance child assassin doesn’t exactly pay the bills. “Fine, but it’d better be worth my time.”

He pushes the innkeeper away again and vaults the porch railing, migrating to the inn stables. The man really doesn’t need to be worried about anybody stealing from him: his stuff is about as valuable as a collection of clay pots. But hey, money is money. Killua only left home a few months ago, but making it on his own is rough. Then again, it’s heaven compared to the hellish ‘family’ he left behind. He hopes those bastards are rotting in hell where they belong.

It’s more fun in this new village, anyway: there’s a surplus of idiots to mess with, including the innkeeper. New merchants will make things even more interesting. Foreigners, in Killua’s experience, tend to be naive—and _incredibly_ easy to steal from. He usually doesn’t bother since they only carry foreign currency, but merchants will be a treasure trove of easy pickings.

“You should be careful,” Killua tells the horses jokingly, swinging himself through the stable window. “There are scary, scary foreigners out to get you, you precious golden steeds.” He perches on the edge of a hay bail, reaching out to brush his fingertips against the mane of a tawny mare.

“I’m not going to hang around here for long,” he says, more to himself than to the horses. “There are too many pockets ripe for the picking. But don’t worry: I’m sure you’ll be fine. Your hooves can do more damage than I can, anyway.” He hops down, giving the animals a wave goodbye. “Watch over each other until I get back.”

He leaves the same way he entered, clamoring up onto the inn‘s second-story balcony to avoid being spotted. It’s easy to hop the roofs in this village, where every building brushes elbows with its neighbor. It’s like the architects built the place normally, and then a giant pair of hands came and pushed everything in close together.

Ivywood Village is a patchwork of new and old, all cobbled together into an urban tapestry of different architectural styles and cultural influences. Killua appreciates the diversity, having grown up in an entirely uninspired, homogenous environment.

The inn sits at the far eastern edge of the residential district, which directly borders the market: a place as hectic as any foreign port could be. Stalls line the crowded streets, steam from the blacksmith’s open forge obscuring the muddy ground. Killua easily blends in with the flow of foot traffic, blue eyes picking skillfully through the crowd.

It’s easy to spot them: it always is. Among the grimy, irritable group of natives, the colorful textiles of foreign nations stick out like sore thumbs. Their hips are stiff with heavy amounts of gold, and their round faces are soft and unsoiled by dirt.

Killua snakes through the crowd until he’s behind them, quickly assessing the pile of goods they’ve laid out on intricately-patterned carpets. There are antiques he can’t even guess the names of, painted paper fans, crystal clusters, and well-dressed dolls. He disregards all the childish trinkets, settling on a white alabaster vase inlaid with veins of what looks like gold and emerald.

It’s almost laughable. What kind of fools would leave something so valuable out in the open? They aren’t even watching after it. Killua usually likes more of a challenge, but he’s content with slipping it in the depths of his coat and disappearing back into the crowd—ghostlike, as his parents used to so fondly call him. He could’ve just walked away normally: merchants certainly are careless with their valuables. This vase could be his key to getting out of Ivywood.

***  *  *  *  ***

Killua retreats to the river bordering the far western edge of the village. He sits on the bank, studying the vase suspiciously. It certainly is incredibly fancy… What a great find.

“Let’s see what’s in this thing,” he mutters. His fingers pry at the rubber stopper stuck in the top, but it won’t budge an inch. “What the hell?” He pulls harder, nearly whacking himself in the face when he loses his grip on the slippery top. “Shit, who designed this thing?!”

_It won’t open, no matter how hard you try._

Killua jumps, scrambling to catch the vase before it can slip and break on the rocky shore. “That was close…” He glances around for the person in need of a beating. How did he not sense their presence? “Who said that, huh? Show yourself!”

_Just look down._ The voice somehow comes from every direction at once. It sounds almost like... a kid? It’s echoing in his head in a way that makes Killua feel nauseous.

“Look down?” he repeats, eyes landing on the vase. “The only thing that’s down is…”

_That’s right!_ The jar suddenly vibrates with sound. _It’s me! The vase! Well, I’m_ inside _the vase and—_

Killua stiffens and chucks it into the river as hard as he can. A second later, he realizes that it’s probably worth more gold than he’s ever seen in his entire life and dives in after it: also a stupid decision, considering he can’t swim… It’s ironic that his parents trained him to kill a man eighty different ways, but never to swim. _Lame_.

The river isn’t deep, but the current is too fast to secure a proper foothold on the slippery rocks of the bottom. Killua grabs the vase, kicking himself up again and again to keep from going under. It should be okay if he can just push himself back to the shore. The river can’t be more than twenty feet across, so he’s not that far from the edge. He’s got the lower body strength to push through the rushing water.

The only thing he doesn’t account for is the waterfall. Harp Falls, they call it, and it’s supposed to be three miles past the town border. Killua was carried a lot farther than he thought.

First a talking vase, and now a fall from a waterfall that will almost definitely break all or most of his bones. _Great_.

Speaking of talking vases: the stupid thing is humming again. _If you fall straight down, you’ll definitely die._

“Shut up,” he yells at it over the roar of the encroaching falls, ignoring how stupid it feels to talk to a piece of pottery. “Don’t you think I know that?! I can’t exactly help it, can I?”

_Try to push yourself out from the edge when you fall so you don’t hit the rocks,_ the vase suggests. _And go in feet-first. I’ve survived a lot of waterfalls._

“You’re a pot!” Killua screeches in frustration. The edge is only ten feet away, approaching unbelievably fast.

_Trust me or you’ll for sure die. Really: I know what I’m talking about._

“Fine!” Killua hugs the vase with both arms, readying his legs to kick out. “This better work!”

He reaches the edge, the water so screamingly loud that he can’t even hear himself think. There’s a moment of weightlessness as his upper body goes over, then a rush of misty air when he pushes off the edge with all his strength. The vase almost slips out of his hands, but he manages to hold onto and drops like a stone.

Killua’s pointed feet strike the water’s surface and he plunges deep into the icy, churning depths. The much-deeper water sweeps him along, throwing him into rocks until he can’t tell which way is up. He holds onto the vase through it all, until his whole body is numb and he can’t stay awake anymore. Even then, he still doesn’t let it go.

***  *  *  *  ***

His bones are aching. Of course, that’s probably to be expected after falling over a waterfall. At least he isn’t dead: everything hurts too much. His legs are in the water. It’s a good sign that he can still feel them.

Killua groans and drags himself farther onto the damp riverbank. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at the stark brightness of the full moon. It was daytime when he fell. How long has he been unconscious?

_Are you still alive? Groaning means you’re alive, right?_

Shit, the stupid vase. He forgot all about it.

“I’m alive.” Killua pushes himself up carefully, quickly locating it a few feet away, where it’s become lodged in the mud. He digs it out and brushes off the dirt. “Since I am, I have questions for... you.” It still feels strange to directly address a ceramic jar.

_Fire away,_ the vase agrees happily. _Nobody’s talked to me in forever! A talking object scares people. It totally sucks being ignored all the time, though._

“Why _can_ you talk?” Killua asks suspiciously. “Are you a demon or something?”

_No way. At least, I don’t think so._ The voice hesitates. _No, definitely not. My spirit is just trapped in here. I’m not actually a vase, either. My real body is off in Candlestadt._

“Candlestadt?” Killua mutters. “Never heard of it. Before anything else, what’s your name? I guess I can’t keep thinking of you as a vase. I’m Killua.”

_My name is Gon Freecss! It’s nice to meet you, Killua._

“Sure, whatever,” he dismisses, setting Gon’s vase on his lap. “My real question is: how did you lose your body in the first place? Personally, I’m pretty attached to mine.”

_How did I lose it?_ Gon repeats, the vase humming with pensive energy. _Hm… I’m not really sure? I think it was a curse or something. All I know is that I’ve been stuck like this for months now. I need to get back home and find my body again._

“That’s really vague,” Killua grumbles, setting him down on the bank to stretch his stiff legs. “Guess I can’t sell you if you’re a person… That blows.”

_You should help me then!_ Gon exclaims, rattling the vase hard enough to knock it over.

Killua rights it again. “Why would I do that? What’s in it for me, huh?”

_I could grant you a wish._ Gon’s words strike Killua’s conscience like an arrow. _Anything you want._

“A wish?” he scoffs. “How?”

_My family are monks. They’re really close with the gods and could easily give you a lot of different things. There’s gotta be something you wish for, right, Killua?_

_If your family are close with the gods, how did you get cursed then?_ is what Killua wants to say. “Something I wish for?” he murmurs instead. ”Anything, right?”

Gon hesitates. _Yeah, within reason. I don’t think they could turn you into a god, or anything else hard like that._

“What about killing someone?” Killua asks eagerly. “Or multiple people, more like. Could they do that?”

_Uh… I guess so? But that’s a little—_

“Great!” Killua interrupts. He grabs the vase and pushes himself up, having already successfully cataloged his minor injuries: no breaks. “I’ll help you out, then. Consider this your lucky day, Gon.”

_Really? Thank you so much! You won’t regret this, Killua!_

“I’m already starting to,” he grumbles, shaking the pins and needles from his legs. Based on maps of the area that he can faintly recall, every nearby village is ten or more kilometers away. Killua heads north, picking the closest one: Harmstead. He was hoping for a chance to think on the long trek, but Gon is overly talkative.

_I’m so glad someone finally talked to me. You agreed to help super quick, too, so you must be a good person! Then again, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover._ Are _you a good person, Killua? I guess you would probably say yes, no matter what—_

“Can we establish some ground rules?” Killua interrupts irritably. “I’m soaking wet, sore, and I have to walk more than ten kilometers. I _don’t_ want to talk, so just be quiet for a while.”

_Sorry._ Gon is quiet for all of ten seconds. _How long is a while?_

Killua rolls his eyes back in his head as far as they’ll go. This is going to be a _long_ journey.

* * *

**2 - beyond your wildest dreams**

* * *

“Gon... you know, you failed to mention to me that your village is _across the ocean_.” Killua glares at the alabaster vase sitting on the ship railing in front of him, and it hums sheepishly.

_Oh, did I really?_

“You’re lucky I don’t flick you into the sea right now,” Killua grumbles, leaning his forearms against the wood to look out at the ocean. The sun is beginning to rise, painting the turquoise waters in waves of gentle gold. “You should really give me _two_ wishes for putting me through this much trouble. Passenger ships cost a lot, and I’m not made of money.”

_Really? You seem rich to me, though._

“You’re _this close_ to being knocked over.” Killua places his fingertip against the vase threateningly. “Give me a reason.”

_Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!_ Gon apologizes quickly. _I really_ am _grateful for your help. I always forget that you need money to do things…_

“Yeah?” Killua frowns at the distant horizon, where the bustling port of Harmstead slowly shrinks to invisibility. He still has a billion questions. “Exactly how long ago were you cursed? You make it seem like it isn’t a big deal, but I don’t really know anything about your situation.”

Gon has to think about it for a long time. _I get the feeling that it was a long time ago, but I’m not sure how long. I’ve traveled to so many different places that it’s hard to keep track of how much time passes._

“Why’d someone curse you in the first place?” Killua wonders aloud. “I mean sure, you’re blunt and annoying, but I don’t think I could curse you if it was me. It’d be like cursing... a puppy, or something.”

_Um… I can’t really remember the reason?_

“You can’t remember a lot of things,” Killua deadpans. A gentle ocean breeze sweeps by, carrying the scent of salt-water and the call of seagulls. He closes his eyes to inhale it, sighing thoughtfully. “Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. All I have to do is get you back home, details unconsidered.”

_Yeah, but I—_ Gon stops himself mid-syllable. After a moment of tense silence, he warns, _Killua, something is happening. There’s this… rumbling._

“Rumbling?” Killua repeats, peeling open one eyelid. “What are you talking about?” He senses it only a second after asking: a distant scraping, rattling sound that’s distinctly out-of-place on the open sea. If Killua had to compare it to something, it would be the heavy footsteps of marching soldiers.

The rest of the boat’s inhabitants have also noticed the commotion. There’s an uneasy murmur passing through the passengers, but the crewmen have turned as white as sheets. Something is amiss.

Grabbing Gon’s vase, Killua quickly vaults the ship’s railing and lands on the desk, startling a crewman. He takes him by the collar, pulling him down to eye-level. “What’s going on?” he demands. “What is that sound?”

“P… Pi… Pir…” The man can barely string a single sentence together. Killua, growing impatient, shakes him hard enough to produce a single, terror-stricken word: “ _Pirates_!”

Killua releases the sailor and flings himself up the ship’s mast to reach the crow’s nest. He’s never run into pirates before, but their title is synonymous with multiple things: plundering and marauding, maiming and murdering, et cetera. In short, not a party he prefers to make the acquaintance of. His surprise-quest is already off to a rough start, and the _last_ thing he wants to deal with is a group of eye-patched amateur thugs.

_What are we doing, Killua? Is it really pirates?_

“Shut up, that’s what I’m _checking on_.” Killua pauses at the top of the mast, squinting out into the dark, shifting waves. The sound is growing clearer: dozens of pairs of stomping feet, and a chanted sea-shanty. ‘ _Yo ho, all hands hoist the colors high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.’_

“How cliché,” Killua mutters under his breath, which catches when the ship comes into view. It’s much bigger than the passenger ship, with sails blacker than tar and a deck full of scores upon scores of singing men. There must be at least a hundred of them.

_That’s a lot of pirates,_ Gon points out unhelpfully. _What do we do?_

“I’m working on it.” Killua secures the vase under his arm. “Things are about to get interesting.” He slides down to the desk on a rope attached to the mast, keeping his eyes on the ship. “If they get on board, I think I can talk my way out of trouble.”

_That’s really your plan? Talking your way out of it?_

“It’s the best I’ve got right now. Just shut up and be inanimate.”

***  *  *  *  ***

The pirates overwhelm them quickly, their scare tactics subduing the passenger ship’s captain into submission within minutes. Killua sits in a line on the desk with the other passengers and the crew, keeping his eyes on the men guarding them. He’s trying to pick out the captain, but none of these men seem to be him: they’re all following executive orders rather than giving them.

If he wants to negotiate, Killua knows he needs to speak with the captain. Parlay is a captain’s term: these men will simply laugh him off and probably chuck him overboard for good measure. If he were on land, Killua would simply disappear up a drain pipe—but that isn’t an option on the open sea, so he’ll have to improvise.

_They’re just looking through the ship’s cargo,_ Gon says in a tone quieter than his usual enthusiastic chirp. _Your plan is to talk to the captain, right? I don’t think he’s around._

“You’re surprisingly perceptive,” Killua mutters under his breath, keeping his eyes on the nearest pirate. “If he isn’t onboard, I might have to cause a little distraction to get his attention.”

_Oh, I can handle that!_

“Gon, no—”

_HEY, YOU BIG UGLY PIRATE! LOOK OVER HERE!_

Killua stiffens, shoving Gon’s vase deep underneath his shirt when one of the pirates whips around and stalks toward him. “You are _dead_ ,” he whisper-shouts. “I’m throwing you overboard!”

“Which one of you said that?” the pirate demands in a deep growl, eyes sweeping the gathered passengers. Killua can smell his halitosis from twenty feet away. “Tell me now, or I’ll chuck you all in the ocean one screaming body at a time.”

Everyone immediately points at Killua, and he resists the urge to groan. So much for victim support.

The pirate draws his scimitar and presses the blade against Killua’s throat. “A snot-nosed brat like you has no business throwing insults. Wanna say that to my face?”

Killua could easily kill him in half a second, but he knows he can’t take on hundreds of pirates alone—plus he’s still got Gon to worry about. “Yeah, y’see, that was definitely my bad,” he drones, purposefully jostling Gon’s vase. That idiot is gonna get it if they make it through this. “Why don’t we just forget it?”

“ _Or_ I could throw you to the sharks.” The pirate grabs him by the collar and drags Killua toward the edge of the ship, laughing maniacally. How comforting to know that the captain he’ll have to confront oversees a crew like _this_.

_Don’t kill him! He’s too young to die!_

“Shut up, Gon!” Killua hisses, but it’s too late.

“Who said that?” the pirate demands. “Who are you talking to?” He pokes Killua with the blade of his scimitar and it, of course, dislodges the vase. It slips from under his jacket and Killua frantically scrambles to save it, elbowing the pirate in the jaw in the process.

“You damn brat—“

Killua dodges a swipe of the scimitar that would’ve taken his head off, rolling across the deck with Gon’s vase tucked safely under his arm. “Keep your mouth shut next time,” he tells him, narrowly avoiding another killing blow. “Parlay!” he directs at the fuming pirate—and the captain, wherever he may be. “ _Parlay_!”

The scimitar blade is centimeters from his throat when a commanding voice echoes over the deck. “Lower your sword!”

Across the ship on the top deck, a shadowy figure in a long black trenchcoat stands on the edge of the railing. He leaps down to their level with ease, unsheathing a sword that he levels at his subordinate's chest without hesitation. “ _Lower your sword_ ,” he repeats, eyes glowing redder than a desert sunset from underneath a curtain of golden hair. “Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

The pirate doesn’t look happy about it, but he sheaths his scimitar and takes a step back, eyes lowered in begrudging respect. “Apologies, Captain Kurapika. This little brat doesn’t know how to show any respect.”

“Yet he knows the terms of parlay,” the captain muses, sheathing his own weapon. His eyes have faded to a dull gray color that leaves Killua wondering if he imagined the previous violent scarlet haze. “Tell me, why are you calling for a parlay?”

“Uh…” Killua readjusts his hold on Gon’s vase, scrambling for a plan on the spot. “I… I assume you’re going to kill everyone on board, and I want to negotiate for my life.” God, _that’s_ the best excuse he can come up with? Even on the spot, it leaves a lot to be desired.

“Just _your_ life?” Kurapika raises an eyebrow. “Not the lives of the other passengers, as well?”

“They ratted me out, so why would I help them?” Killua shrugs, a proper plan beginning to take shape. With any luck, Gon will keep quiet and refrain from ruining it. “Nah, just _my_ life is enough. If you can assure my safety, I can make it worth your while.”

“What could a kid like you _possibly_ have to offer?” Kurapika drones. “No offense, but you don’t look well-to-do. All you’re carrying is that vase, and I don’t want it.”

“You don’t?” Killua grins. “But pirates like treasure, right? Then this might change your mind: there’s a spirit in this vase that can lead you to a huge fortune.” He looks down pointedly.

_Oh, that’s me!_ Gon exclaims, finally catching on. _Spirit in a jar._

Kurapika draws his sword: a silent threat. His eyes flash red for a split second as they scrutinize Killua’s face, but he definitely seems curious. “And where did you acquire something like a haunted vase? How do I know you’re not lying about this ‘treasure’?”

“I… found him washed up on a riverbank,” Killua says carefully. It’s technically true. “And he told me about the treasure himself. I was going to keep it all, but I can’t exactly do that if I’m dead, can I?” Killua grins. “Besides, even if there _isn’t_ a treasure, what do you have to lose? After all, I’m just a kid, right? If the fortune ends up being fake, you can just kill me.” As if. He’s playing this guy like a fiddle.

“You have a point.” Kurapika resheaths his weapon and cuts a glance at his underling. “Upi, you can return to the ship. Tell the others we’ll be changing course.”

The pirate doesn’t move, keeping his eyes downcast. As Kurapika begins to question him, Killua catches a glint out of the corner of his eye. “Look out!” he warns, pulling him forward by the edge of his trenchcoat. The sword strike that would’ve cut him down slashes through empty air, and Killua finds himself blocked in on all sides by smirking, mutinous crewmen.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Kurapika demands, brandishing his own sword. None of them answer. “Lower your weapons at once!”

Killua rolls his eyes. “Don’t you see what’s going on? They’re turning on you, _Captain_.” He shakes his head with a dejected groan. “Dammit, and I really thought that was going well, too.”

“A mutiny?” Kurapika’s eyes are glowing red again. Killua’s never seen anything like it before. “How dare you all! I’ll give you _one_ chance to sheath your swords and—”

“It’s no use reasoning with them!” Killua pulls the blond out of the way of another scimitar jab, swearing under his breath. “Shit, this is the _worst_.” Their backs are facing the dark, undulating sea: there’s nowhere to run. “What kind of captain’s crew mutinies in the middle of a raid, anyway?”

“It’s not like it’s _my_ fault!” Kurapika snaps, parrying the pirate Upi’s blade. “I _thought_ my crew was loyal.”

“You’re the _worst_ Captain,” one of the men complains, joined by murmurs of assent from the others. “All you care about is finding the Phantoms! Do you actually think we _want_ to chase after the most notorious pirates in the Seven Seas? A change in leadership is more than overdue!”

There’s a shout of agreement, and the crowd pushes forward. The sword blades are getting a little too close for comfort.

_This is bad, Killua,_ Gon says, once again pointing out the obvious. He’s annoyingly good at that. _We need a new plan._

“I’m _working_ on that, Gon!” Killua hoists himself onto the railing, and Kurapika quickly follows suit. The roiling, ink-black depths below don’t exactly scream ‘dive in!’ but there are incredibly limited options out in the middle of the ocean.

“Listen,” Killua directs at Kurapika, “I’m gonna jump. If you want to live, you should probably do the same.”

Without waiting for a response, he plugs his nose, hugs Gon’s vase like it’s a life-preserver, and dives straight into the water.

* * *

**3 - crosses to bear**

* * *

It takes Killua exactly three minutes to learn how to swim. If he hadn’t been surprised when he fell into the river back at Ivywood, he could’ve done it then. One thing his parents _did_ give him is a vast lung capacity from years of torture resistance training, and the uncanny ability to adapt to just about anything. He’ll have to remember to thank them before killing them.

Killua kicks his way to the surface, gasping in lungfuls of much-needed air. Gon’s voice fills his head once it’s out of the water. _Killua, start swimming. They might shoot at the water._

Unable to respond without inhaling sea water, Killua holds back his sarcastic comments and paddles away clumsily but efficiently. Kurapika is nowhere to be seen: with any luck, he’s still on the ship, or busy sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Swimming is _hard_. The current pulls in every direction at once, making it nearly impossible to move in a set direction—especially when Killua only has the use of one arm. The ocean continues on for miles in every direction, an endless sea of black with no land mass in sight. The only thing nearby is a tiny speck of white on the distant horizon: a fishing boat. That’s much better than swimming for hours on end.

Unfortunately, when he reaches it and is pulled aboard by a distraught fisherman, Kurapika is huddled in the corner, shivering and drinking from a chipped ceramic mug. They eye each other warily, but neither can make a move in front of their savior. Killua _did_ technically save his life, though: Kurapika owes him one, which he’ll tell him when they get to land. Or, at least, he _planned_ to tell him.

When they reach the port, Kurapika corners Killua behind a stack of apple crates. “Take me to find the treasure,” he demands, brandishing a dagger that was hiding somewhere in his trenchcoat. “Mutiny doesn’t change our deal—

Killua takes off before he can finish his sentence, vaulting over one of the crates and disappearing into the crowd of sailors and fishermen. He could take Kurapika on easily, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene in the port—and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to travel with that abysmal ‘captain’ for another 1000 kilometers. Running is the best option: now that he’s on land, Killua is confident he can lose him.

Unfortunately, he isn’t familiar with this new city and he has no idea where to go. Gon isn’t any help, either, offering up a weak _…Left?_ when asked which direction to take. That’s what Killua gets for leaving navigation up to a ceramic jar. They’re _never_ going to find Gon’s body at this rate.

Kurapika’s dagger whizzes past Killua’s left ear, embedding hilt-deep in a tavern’s hanging sign. “Is this guy crazy?” Killua mutters to himself, jumping up to grab it on his way past. “Thanks for the knife, I guess.”

“Hey, you! The white-haired kid! Stop!”

Killua hesitates just long enough to take in the officer’s badge pinned to the man’s blue coat before he takes off running again. Unfortunately, that nutcase Kurapika leaps at him, shrieking like a feral cat. They go down hard, rolling across the wooden walkway in a tangle of limbs.

“ _What_ the hell is your problem— Ouch, stop _biting_ me! Are you a wild animal or something?!”

The officer surreptitiously pulls them apart. “There’s a law against public skirmishes. What’s the problem here?”

“ _He’s_ the one chasing _me_.” Killua spits on the ground at Kurapika’s feet irritably. “I did nothing wrong.” He silently urges Gon to keep his mouth shut for half a second to keep from throwing him under fire again.

“ _Nothing wrong_?” Kurapika scoffs. “You were just going to ditch me and take the treasure all for yourself, weren’t you? We had a _deal_.”

“Deals are made to be broken.” Killua tries to turn and run, but the officer has an iron grip on his collar.

“What’s this treasure you’re talking about?” he asks, brown eyes narrowed. Looking at him, he may have the face of an idiot, but he still caught Kurapika’s slip of the tongue.

“Look what you’ve done _now_ ,” Killua exclaims, shooting Kurapika a tempestuous glare. “No offense,” he says to the officer, “but I’d rather not tell you anything.”

“Then I can easily call over some of my superiors. Your choice, kid.”

“He promised to take me to a treasure,” Kurapika says before Killua can get a word in. (He conveniently leaves out the fact that he was threatening Killua’s life at the time.)

“What kind of treasure?” the officer prompts.

“Seriously?” Killua rolls his eyes. “What are you, a dirty cop? Let me go already, old man.”

“I’m a teenager!” the man protests, making Kurapika choke when he inhales. “And I’m not a dirty cop. I’m just in training right now, and I don’t have a loyalty to the law or anything like that.” He suddenly smiles, which makes Killua nervous. “And you don’t know your way around here, do you? You two look like foreigners. I could help you out, for a cut.”

“This can't really be happening right now,” Killua grumbles, sighing through his teeth. Instead of ditching Kurapika, he managed to pick up another straggler instead: a _cop_ , which makes things a lot more complicated. He’s got no choice but to agree. “Fine. Put me down, and maybe we can talk.”

***  *  *  *  ***

The rookie officer—Leorio—takes them to the edge of the next village, and Killua struggles to think his way out of this newest problem. Now he has to ditch _two_ people instead of one. At least Gon is keeping quiet for once: that’s one less thing to worry about.

Maybe he can ditch them in a crowd: it wouldn’t be hard with Leorio and Kurapika constantly arguing. Unfortunately, they’re not close to the city anymore. They’ve reached a road leading to the next village, which is only a few miles away. From there, Killua will have to hope Gon can give directions.

“How far is it to this treasure, exactly?” Kurapika grumbles, moving away from Leorio to drop beside Killua, who’s been trying to stay a few feet behind them at all times.

“Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you asked?” Killua drones, readjusting his grip on Gon’s vase. He’s being almost _too_ quiet. “I’m not really sure how far it is from here, since that ship I was on was headed for a port much farther west.”

“Why’d you get off here if you were headed west?”

Great: now Leorio is asking questions. Killua needs to get rid of them both as fast as possible. He has some dirt on Kurapika: an officer wouldn’t be overjoyed to be spending time with a pirate captain. But then again, Leorio _is_ taking them across the continent to find fake treasure, so he’s not exactly on the straight-and-narrow... God, things would be easier if they just _vanished_.

As if the heavens hear his prayer, an arrow whizzes past Killua's left ear. It hits a tree trunk nearby, splitting the bark. Dozens of others soon follow it. One catches Kurapika’s left shoulder, another nearly taking Leorio’s head off before he can duck.

“BANDITS!” someone yells helpfully from up ahead.

“Yes!” Killua shouts, taking off in the direction of the village border. “We’re ditching these losers here and now.”

_Are you sure that’s a good idea?_ comes Gon’s reply from under Killua’s jacket. _We needed their help finding our way, right? If we ditch them, we might get lost._

“I don’t want their dead weight hanging around.” Killua dodges another arrow, vaulting over a fallen tree in the road. “We’ll manage on our own. If we just make it to the village, we can—”

“You, stop!”

“Christ, what is it _now_?” Killua turns—and is instantly face-to-face with a scowling man dressed in robes the color of mulberries. The longer they stare at each other, the more familiar he looks: he’s one of the merchants from back in Ivywood.

_This isn’t good,_ Gon says, as if Killua doesn’t know that already.

“Quiet,” Killua says under his breath, mind racing to come up with a solution. “I can handle this.”

“You’re little thief who took vase,” the merchant says in a broken accent. “In my country, we cut hands for crime like that.”

“Bandits are attacking right now,” Killua tries to reason, backing away from the man’s reaching arms. “You should protect your caravan, and we can talk this through later— Okay, so you don’t want to talk. That’s fine: I’ll just run.”

“There he is!” To add insult to injury, Kurapika’s already found him. At least he’s on Killua’s side: he picks an arrow out of a tree and throws it at the merchant like a dart. “Run, Killua! We’ll find you!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” He takes off, ignoring Gon’s panicked commentary.

The village must be close by, but that’s probably what the bandits are after. Hiding nearby is the safest bet. If Killua remembers right, Leorio said this is a farming village, so he’ll wager that there are storage barns somewhere in the forest. That’ll have to work. Unfortunately, it isn’t an original idea: when Killua stumbles upon a dilapidated old barn, someone pulls him inside by the jacket collar.

“Keep quiet,” Kurapika whispers, holding a finger to his lips. “The forest is crawling with bandits and officers.” He releases Killua’s shirt and crouches by the door, which has been blocked with a hay bale. “Have you seen Leorio?”

“I’m over here,” a muffled voice announces from above. Leorio’s hand sticks through a square cut in the floor and waves at them. “Come up here. If they find us, we’ll be safer in this loft.”

Killua rolls his eyes but follows Kurapika to the ladder anyway. It looks like ditching them will be much harder than he thought.

***  *  *  *  ***

Hours pass, evening leaking into dusk. The sun peeks through holes in the barn roof, illuminating the dust particles in the air. The sound of fighting has faded, but all of them have yet to move. They’re each waiting for something, although Killua can’t say what it is.

Kurapika is cleaning his nails with a knife, and Leorio is alternating between glancing at him nervously and keeping watch through a sliver in the wall of the barn. Killua warned Gon against giving himself away to Leorio just yet, so the three of them are surrounded by a tense air of silence.

“This is boring,” Killua says eventually, kicking an old rusty shovelhead with his toe. “I’d rather be attacked.”

Kurapika glares at him. “Don’t jinx us. You should learn to have patience: it’s a virtue.”

“A virtue? That’s funny coming from you.”

Before they can kill each other, Leorio plays peacekeeper. “Keep things civil. This is no time to be fighting with each other.” He moves away from his spot against the wall and sits beside Kurapika, who shifts away from him with a frown. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” Leorio continues. “What brought you two to travel together?”

Killua and Kurapika look at each other, then at the floor. “It’s a long story,” Killua says with a cough. “We don’t actually know each other that well, so you could call this coincidental.” His lips twitch. “But Kurapika, why don’t you tell him a bit about yourself, huh?”

Kurapika glares at him in a silent _I’ll kill you_ way. His eyes flash red for a split second before he closes them with a long sigh. “I was betrayed by… _friends_ , and he saved my life. He’s also leading me to the treasure. That’s as far as our acquaintanceship goes. All of us are strangers.”

“Well…” Leorio pauses long enough that Kurapika starts cleaning his nails again before he finishes, “We should get to know each other. Why are you two after treasure?”

Nobody says a word. Killua and Kurapika can agree on this one thing: neither of them wants to answer this question. Killua doesn’t like to dredge up his past to anyone. Based on the haunted look in his eyes, Kurapika must have his own crosses to bear.

“We don’t have time to waste on useless things.” Kurapika pushes himself up and adjusts his coat, keeping his gray eyes downcast. “It should be safe to go now. Let’s head to the village before nightfall.”

He leaps down from the loft, and Leorio rushes after him with a worried monologue. The bickering gets farther and farther away until the sound of crickets overwhelms their sharp voices.

_Do you still want to ditch them?_ Gon asks, speaking up for the first time in hours.

Killua gets up, letting out a tired sigh through his teeth. “I was pretty sure about it before, but... Well, it’s a waiting game now.”

* * *

  **4 - bounty hunters**

* * *

****“What can you tell me about Candlestadt?”

Killua has been wandering around the village for two straight hours, and not a single person has been able to answer the question—including this weapons merchant. He shakes his head, leaving Killua to trudge on dejectedly. “How has not a single person heard of your hometown, Gon?” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m starting to think you’re making everything up—“

“Hey, kid! Wait up!”

When Killua turns, he’s met by a breathless stranger with a basket under one arm. She leans closer to speak, even though she isn’t whispering. “I heard you were asking about Candlestadt. Why?”

“My friend lives there,” Killua says after a moment of hesitation. “I just need to know the way.”

“It’s not a place many people are interested in going these days. Full of monks and religious nuts, you know the type.” She leans closer with every word, and Killua leans back in turn. “But if you _really_ want to go there, I could give you directions. Got paper?”

“Uh… no?”

“That’s okay. I have some.”

Killua watches her dig out a scrap of parchment with a raised brow. It’s good that _someone_ has heard of Candlestast, but... how reliable is this girl? She seems like she has a few screws loose. Then again, some direction is better than none.

“I’ll just draw you a quick map.” She flattens the paper against the wall between two market stalls and starts sketching. “It’s like… And then… Yes, exactly. I think that’s it. Here you go.”

“Thanks?” Killua has barely touched the paper when the girl turns and disappears into the crowd with a cheerful wave. “Did I just hallucinate that?” he mutters, half to himself and half to Gon. “You saw her too, right?”

_Uh-huh. She reminds me of someone else I know. Or used to know, I guess._

Killua unfurls the girl’s messy map. “Let’s see if her _directions_ remind you of anything, huh? Look at this and tell me if any of it seems familiar.”

_Well… I’m not sure. It looks right. I think?_

“Are you sure or _aren’t_ you? Hurry up, before the others get here. I don’t want them to see it.”

_Why? I thought you liked them a little more now._

“Well, you thought wrong,” Killua says impatiently. “You _do_ realize that I lied to them, and they’ll be really mad when they find out? They’ll want to kill me? Did you think about that? Just… just look at the map.”

_You don’t need to get mad._ Gon pauses for a long time. _I think it’s right. I’m pretty sure it is._

Killua rolls his eyes. There’s no getting around Gon’s unreliable memory. “Fine: we’ll just have to go with it.” He shoves the paper in his jacket and cuts back through the square. “The others are getting supplies, so it should be easy to ditch them. From here, the map says to head northeast—“

“What was that about ditching us?”

Killua’s heart drops into his stomach. Kurapika is standing a few feet ahead of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Beside him, Leorio also looks offended, but in a confused way.

“Shit,” Killua mutters, because there’s really nothing else to say at this point. “Can we… talk this out?”

“Grab him.”

***  *  *  *  ***

“Was tying me up _really_ necessary?” Killua grumbles, tugging meaningfully at the ropes cinched around his wrists. “You already dragged me to this old warehouse. It’s going a bit overboard.”

“Shut up.” Kurapika seems to really like saying that. “You have no right to speak. You were planning on ditching us?” He pulls a knife from his coat and levels it at Killua’s throat. “I’ll kill you right now for even _trying_ to double-cross me.”

“Hey, put the knife away,” Leorio orders, pushing his arm down. “Murder is definitely still illegal, Kurapika, and you shouldn’t threaten a little kid.”

“He may be a kid, but he’s dangerous. I swear, Leorio, I am _this close_ to ripping your head off.”

“Your fingers are touching.”

“ _Exactly_.” He pushes Leorio away roughly and moves his hand into striking position. “Anyone who betrays me deserves to die.”

_Wait! Don’t stab him!_ Gon exclaims, vibrating so hard that he almost falls out of Killua’s jacket. _This is all my fault!_

As if things weren’t bad enough, Leorio now knows about Gon. And based on his look of utter confusion, it’ll be a chore explaining things to him. _Great_.

“Who said that?” he demands predictably, voice cracking more than usual. “Where’d that voice come from?”

“It’s his stupid ghost jar.” Kurapika fishes the vase out of Killua’s jacket, ignoring his slew of threats. “This thing apparently knows where the treasure is…” He grins at Killua. “Huh. I don’t even need you if I take _this_.”

Oh, hell no. Killua is _not_ about to lose the thing that dragged him leagues away from home—the thing that will grant him what he wants the most in this world. “You better kill me if you plan to take Gon. If you don’t, I _swear_ I’ll track you down and rip your heart out.”

“You’re _asking_ me to kill you?” Kurapika taunts. “I’d be more than happy to.”

Before Leorio can intervene with his stupid moral code, Gon’s vase vibrates angrily. _All of you stop talking about murdering each other. I won’t lead_ anyone _to the treasure if you don’t untie Killua right now._

“What if I break this vase?” Kurapika replies, tapping his knife against the ceramic. “Does that change your mind?”

_If you break the vase, I’ll disappear, and none of you will get what you want,_ Gon says confidently. _Untie him, or I won’t help you._

Kurapika clearly wants to argue—or maybe drop-kick Gon—but Leorio’s eyes trained on his knife and Killua’s murderous gaze seem to convince him against it. “ _Fine_. Leorio, take— Oh, for Heaven’s sake, don’t look at me like that. It’s just a haunted jar, not a poisonous snake. _Take this_.”

With Gon safely in Leorio’s trembling hands, Kurapika unties Killua unhappily. “If you try anything, I’ll still kill you,” he warns before undoing the last knot.

Killua bites back a snarky reply, keeping his eyes on Gon. “Whatever. Just give him back to me.”

_Hang on, Killua,_ Gon protests, making Leorio jump. _Man, you’re a nervous guy, huh? I’m really not scary. Anyway, I want you all to work together._

“ _Not_ happening,” Kurapika disagrees immediately. “He was planning to double-cross me, and you expect me to trust him? Or _you_ , for that matter?”

“Yeah, and aren’t you forgetting something, Gon?” Killua adds through gritted teeth. “I really _wish_ you would take my side on this.” This idiot knows there’s no real fortune, yet he’s trying to get them to stay together? What the hell is he thinking?

_There’s no way we’ll make it without help,_ Gon insists. _We need them, Killua. I won’t help any of you unless you can work together. Can you all agree?_

Kurapika and Killua glare at each other silently. Leorio wisely keeps quiet: neither of them feel threatened by him, so his agreement is pointless. Killua doesn’t want to travel with _anyone_ , but if Gon won’t help him otherwise, he’s got no choice. If he refuses, Kurapika will just threaten him in order to get Gon’s help. Both of them are backed into a corner.

Kurapika has come to this realization already. “If there’s no way around it, I’ll agree to cooperate.”

Killua has no choice but to agree. “Fine. I guess I’m in. But you better not get in my way. And give me Gon back.”

Kurapika snatches the vase from Leorio, but doesn’t hand it back to him. “If this is all a ploy to escape, I’ll kill you. Just be warned.”

He holds out the vase, but the second Killua’s hands make contact with it, a knife spirals straight at his chest.

***  *  *  *  ***

Bounty hunters aren’t people you should get involved with. Killua knows several, and they’re the type of people who kill first and ask questions later. That would explain why the knife is aimed at his heart—and why he’s barely able to dodge it. He and Kurapika both react instantly, leaping apart to take defensive positions.

At the door to the warehouse, a lanky redheaded figure stands with his throwing arm still raised. Killua feels his heart skip a beat: he recognizes this bounty hunter. God, he _really_ wishes he didn’t. Hisoka is one of the best in the continent. Well, aside from…

“Illumi!” Hisoka turns to call over his shoulder. “You were right: he’s here!”

Killua’s blood turns cold when his brother appears beside Hisoka, blocking the doorway completely. They haven’t seen each other in months, but he looks the same. His eyes are as black and soulless as ever, and they make Killua just as uneasy.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Kil. The whole family is worried sick.” The way he says it, so emotionless, makes Killua scoff.

“Yeah, I bet you‘re all _so_ torn up. It’s not like I stabbed Mom or broke the house’s main gate or anything.”

“That’s all in the past now,” Illumi says dismissively, taking another step into the room. “But I never expected to find you so far from home. How’d you get all the way out here?”

Killua ignores the question. “Who hired you to find me? Dad? Grandpa? You can tell whoever it was to eat my—“

“Actually, it wasn’t a family job,” Illumi interrupts. “A group of merchants told us you stole _that_ vase from them.”

Just when Killua thinks life can’t get any worse, _this_ happens. Not only are the merchants themselves after him, but they hired bounty hunters—including his own brother—to find him. Getting rid of Leorio and Kurapika is the least of his troubles now. Speaking of Kurapika, he’s inching closer to Killua’s side. Normally this would seem threatening, but he sweeps his eyes to the side pointedly: there’s a hole in the wall of the warehouse that’s just big enough for them to squeeze through. They’ll have to be incredibly quick, but it’s possible.

Killua’s grip tightens on Gon, and he edges backward to let Kurapika know he’s caught on. Maybe the pirate is good for something, after all. Unfortunately, they don’t have time to establish a signal, so when Kurapika shoves Leorio face-first through the crack and yells, “GO!” there’s only seconds to react.

Killua scrambles after them, stuffing Gon’s vase deep into his jacket. A knife hits the wall over his head, but he makes it outside safely and sprints after the others down the steep hill at the back of the warehouse. They don’t stop until they hit the edge of a forest that must be at least ten kilometers away—but ten kilometers isn’t _nearly_ enough distance from Illumi.

His dead gaze still haunts Killua every time he closes his eyes. Having him suddenly show up is a waking nightmare. At least Gon didn’t reveal himself to him and Hisoka: that would’ve been _unbelievably_ unlucky. Not that their luck is any good as it is.

“Is it… safe to… stop now?” Leorio gasps, collapsing against a tree to catch his breath. “We must’ve... lost them.”

“The farther away we get from them, the better,” Killua mutters, moving past him to peer into the forest. “Trust me. This forest is probably our best shot of throwing off the trail. Anything is better than being caught.”

“He’s right. Those two are bad news.” Kurapika takes off his trenchcoat and throws it into the bushes, rolling up the sleeves of his white undershirt. “If we head straight through, we should reach the village’s eastern border. From there, it’ll be easier to figure out our next move.”

“Great.” Killua squints off into the forest, which is a deep, solid mass of dark foliage and worrying noises. “It doesn’t look very inviting…”

“That’s because this forest is cursed,” Leorio says nervously, removing his hand from the tree. “Everyone says.”

“Even better!” Killua readjusts his jacket and trudges forward. “If it’s horribly dangerous, maybe they won’t follow us in.”

“I’m starting to like you.” Kurapika conceals his knife and follows after him. “Leorio, get moving or we’ll leave you to the bounty hunters. We’ve got a long way to walk.”

_That’s not very nice, Kurapika._

“As a talking piece of pottery, your opinion matters very little to me. Killua, tell your ghost jar to shut up before I break it.”

“My ‘ghost jar’ has a _name_ —and fuck you.”

“Children shouldn’t talk like that. Leorio, _hurry up_!”

“I’m _coming_!”

Killua sighs, tapping the lid of Gon’s vase with his fingernails. “This is going to be a _long_ walk…”

* * *

  **5 - bridging the gap**

* * *

They’ve walked for what feels like forever, but is more accurately only a few hours. By the time they reach the other side and the village border, the sun has long since set. Leorio has been complaining for the last three miles, so it’s a relief to hear him go quiet. It’s _not_ a relief, however, to be standing at the ridge of a gigantic canyon.

“Wow…” Leorio whistles softly. “I’ve never seen this canyon in person before. It’s so high up.” He takes a few steps back. “ _Really_ high up...”

“You must not get out much.” Killua sits on the edge of the cliff face, staring past his feet at the fifty-foot drop. “This will take too long to scale… Shit.” He sets Gon down next to him and unfolds the map across his knee. “The destination is definitely due east…”

“We have no choice but to find a way down,” Kurapika mutters, studying the paper over his shoulder. “There’s no way around.”

“Why don’t we get some gliders?” Leorio suggests without stepping any closer to the edge. “They rent them down by the ocean. If we cut through the forest, it’s not too far from here.”

Killua blinks in surprise. “Wow, you actually had a _good_ idea—”

“ _Unfortunately_ ,” Kurapika interrupts, “Killua has bounty hunters after him, and as for myself, well…” He pauses for long enough to make any person other than oblivious Leorio suspicious. “Well, _I_ shouldn’t show my face in town, either. Leorio, can you handle getting them on your own?”

“You keep insulting me,” he huffs, turning his back on them. “I’ll show you: I’m more capable than you think. I’ll be back soon with the gliders.”

As soon as he disappears into the forest, Kurapika collapses a few feet from Killua with a sigh. “Now that he’s gone, we have a chance to brainstorm… Obviously, these bounty hunters only further complicate things for us both.”

Right down to business: that seems to be Kurapika’s strong-suit. Killua can’t argue, either. “Yeah, but there isn’t exactly anything we can do. I know those two—as you probably guessed—and they will _not_ be easy to lose, let alone get rid of entirely.”

“We’ll have to do everything we can to shake them off, then,” Kurapika decides, frowning at the darkened horizon. “Disguises would be obvious. We should’ve told Leorio to get cloaks.”

“I’ll do it,” Killua says, collecting Gon and pushing himself away from the edge. “I’m fast enough to outrun them. I’ll be back in less than twenty minutes.”

“Wait.” Kurapika catches him by the shirt. “Even if I saved you back there, I don’t trust you. How do I know you won’t run off with the vase?”

Killua shakes him off irritably. “First of all, you didn’t _save_ anyone: I could’ve handled myself back there. Secondly, the ‘vase’ has a name: it’s Gon. And lastly, I don’t want to stick with you as much as you don’t want to stick with me, but we’re in the same boat: right, Gon?”

_Yes!_ Gon confirms enthusiastically. _I really won’t help any of you if you don’t work together. Pinky swear— Oh, I don’t really have pinkies right now… Well, I swear._

“Yeah, whatever he said… And I guess you don’t have a reason to believe us, but you’ll just have to trust me a little.” Killua’s lips twitch. He _hates_ having to take the high ground. “Although, I know that must be difficult for a guy like you.”

After a moment of tense silence, Kurapika surprisingly releases him. “Fine. If you don’t come back, I _will_ hunt you down. Remember that.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

“ _Ugh_. Never do that again.”

***  *  *  *  ***

Killua is so tense that he can feel his hands shaking at his sides. He imagines Illumi around every corner, waiting to grab him. He could blame the years of childhood trauma for making him jumpy, but it’s really just the idea of being forced to go back home.

Gon senses his unease. _What’s wrong, Killua? You look like you’ve seen a ghost._

The attempt at humor falls flat: Killua can barely even focus on the cloaks he’s supposed to be stealing. “That was my brother,” he says after a long moment of silence, keeping his eyes on the shopkeeper. “I haven’t seen him since I left home after… Well, I’d rather not get into the details.”

_So you don’t get along with your family?_ Gon asks, pausing while Killua shoves the cloaks into his jacket. _I thought it was weird that you were on your own when we met. You’re probably the same age as me._

Killua frowns. He isn’t far enough away from the shop to speak without drawing attention to himself, but he’s been waiting for a chance to find out more about Gon. “How old are you?”

_Twelve! At least, I should be. I don’t know how long it’s been, or if my body will get older without a soul in it._

“We aren’t the same age, then.” Killua ducks around a group of irritating, giggling girls. “I’m fifteen.”

_Really? You’re short, though._

“Shut up,” Killua mutters, flicking the vase under his shirt. “You’re stuck in a jar, so you’re infinitely shorter than me. But y’know... as much as I hate to say it, if you were twelve when you got cursed, you might be older than me depending on how long it’s been.”

_Oh, I didn’t think about that! I guess we’ll find out when we find my body._ He pauses. _Hey… sorry for threatening not to help you if you wouldn’t work with the others. Traveling alone is dangerous, and I didn’t want anything to happen to you._

Killua scoffs, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Idiot. Nothing would’ve happened to…” He trails off, catching a wisp of conversation from somewhere in the crowd.

“—can lead us to the treasure.”

“Are you sure he’s even here, Upi? Would he really have survived diving into the ocean so far from shore?”

“Oh, he’s alive alright. It’s hard to kill a pirate—and Kurapika is especially stubborn. Now shut up and start searching for him.”

Killua’s blood turns cold. _Upi_ : one of Kurapika’s old crew. They must be searching for him, and if they’re looking for the ‘treasure,’ that means they’re after Gon as well. As if things couldn’t get any worse… _Shit_.

_Was that—_ Gon starts to ask.

“Kurapika’s old crew? Yeah.” Killua ducks into an alley that will lead back to the forest, struggling to hold in the string of swears he wants to let out. “We’re screwed... We have to warn him. Dammit. _Why_ do things keep going wrong?!”

_I think you’re just unlucky,_ Gon offers unhelpfully.

“Quiet. That was a rhetorical question.” Killua finally makes it to the forest, where he breaks into a sprint. Branches scrape against his face, but it doesn’t matter: a bigger group of people to include in his lie is the last thing Killua needs to deal with.

The canyon is just up ahead. Killua bursts through the trees with a warning on his lips—but, of course, luck isn’t on his side. Upi and other pirates have Kurapika and Leorio roped to a tree stump a few feet from the edge, where three gliders are lying on their sides. Killua barely manages to dive back into the forest before he’s noticed.

_This isn’t good,_ Gon says, once again stating the obvious. _There’s a lot of them. They all have weapons. Do you have a plan?_

“Quiet! I’m thinking.”

His best option is to get them untied and to take the gliders, but they’re outnumbered at least three to one. It’ll have to be quick, and there’s no room for mistakes. Then again, there never is.

Killua presses his back against a tree to compose himself. “Okay… This could either go really well or really bad.”

_That doesn’t sound good._

“Yeah? Well, it’s the best I can do right now.” Killua holds onto the vase to still his shaking fingers. It’s cold where it presses against his skin. “Things really do keep going wrong… Shit, I hope this works.”

***  *  *  *  ***

Killua has done a lot of things, but he can’t say he’s ever taken on a band of ten armed pirates before. He’s had a lot of ‘firsts’ recently: first time away from home, first ghost vase, first swim. This is the least exciting of them all, mostly because there’s a high chance of death. That will make things more interesting, at least.

Phase one of his plan involves throwing a rock at Upi as hard as he can. He’s closest to the edge, so with any luck, he’ll fall and create a distraction big enough for Killua to run in, untie the others, and take the gliders. It’s not exactly well thought-out, but it’s the best he can do under the circumstances.

Maybe he’s finally caught a break: the rock hits Upi square in the side of the head. He wobbles, careening toward the canyon edge, and several of the other pirates rush to his aid. Killua makes a run for it, vaulting through the gap between bodies to reach Kurapika and Leorio. His nails slash through the ropes quickly, and he races for the edge.

“Follow me if you wanna live!” Killua grabs a glider and jumps off the canyon edge before he can second-guess himself. He’s never used one before, but it isn’t too complicated: even with Gon screeching incoherently in his ear, Killua is able to find the latch that opens the wings. They catch the updraft and he’s suddenly soaring instead of falling, coasting across the canyon on the air currents. Kurapika and Leorio must've figured theirs out, too: there’s no screaming, just relieved laughter and the swears of Kurapika's ex crew growing fainter.

Gon finally calms down enough to talk normally. _That was amazing, Killua! I can’t believe the plan really worked._

“Me neither.” Killua’s heart is still beating at twice its normal speed, but their ordeal is far from over. “There’s no time to rest. As soon as we land, we have to figure out our next move. Those guys will be after us now, too; Leorio will be suspicious; and we still have two bounty hunters tracking us.”

_But until then, you should celebrate a little,_ Gon urges. The vibration of his voice against Killua's sternum is somehow comforting. _I know it’s a bad time, but I’m glad that you stole me from those merchants. I never thought I’d get to go home again._

There’s a fluttering in Killua’s chest that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through him. “Idiot... Don’t thank me yet. I got us into this whole mess by lying to those pirates, and it’s my fault bounty hunters are after us. I messed a lot of things up.”

_But you agreed to help me,_ Gon says in a voice that’s too gentle. _I need to at least thank you for that._

Killua can’t think of anything to say back, so it’s a good thing Kurapika interrupts. “Hey, let’s land down there! It looks clear!”

Killua flashes him a thumbs up and drops into a dive. Landing is much simpler than leaping off a cliff. He coasts to an easy stop before shedding the glider, checking to make sure that Gon is still intact.

As soon as Kurapika and Leorio are on the ground, Killua pulls them aside. “It’s time for a new plan. We might’ve shaken those guys for now, but we’ve still got other problems. The farther and faster we distance ourselves from here, the better.”

“We need to cut down on our travel time,” Kurapika says, crouching on one of the rocks littering the canyon floor. “Let me see the map.”

Killua sits beside him and hands it over, and they scrutinize it while Leorio looks on in confusion.

“We’ve still got two-hundred miles to go, at least,” Kurapika mutters, running his fingers over the paper. “How can we possibly shorten that? There’s just forest between here and where we’re headed.”

“I don’t know…” Killua bites his lip. “There’s no rivers or streams that lead there, either. Even if we could get horses or something, we’d only get there a little quicker, and we’d be easier to track.”

_I have an idea,_ Gon speaks up. _There’s someone I know that lives nearby. She’s a cleric, so she might be able to help._

“A cleric?” Leorio repeats skeptically. He seems to be getting more used to the idea of a talking vase. “What, like a witch?”

_Not exactly. She just understands certain things better than others. I’m sure she can help us._

Killua and Kurapika trade looks before Leorio shrugs. “Hey, we might as well give it a try, right? Who knows: it could be just the lucky break we need.”

* * *

**6 - like light**

* * *

“ _This_ is the cleric’s house?” Killua raises an eyebrow at the impeccable, cookie-cutter house Gon has directed them to. “It looks like a grandma’s cottage.”

“What did you just say, you little brat?”

Killua jumps, feeling his heart seize when the door is thrown open. “ _Jesus_. You scared—” His throat dries up when he realizes that the cleric looks _young_ —maybe even younger than him. “Uh… _you’re_ Biscuit Krueger? The cleric?”

“That’s me.” She crosses her arms, flipping long blonde hair over her petite shoulder with a glare. “And call me Bisky. Who are _you_ , exactly?”

_Bisky, it’s— Oh, Killua, take me out, will you? Yeah... Thanks. Bisky, it’s me, Gon!_

“ _Gon_?” Bisky snatches the vase from Killua to scrutinize it. “It really _is_ you. What happened?”

_It’s a long story. Think you can help us out?_

“I’ll see what I can do.” She hands Gon back to Killua, gesturing for the three of them to follow her. “Come on in and take a seat at that table there. I’d make tea, but… I’m guessing that this situation is too urgent for that.”

“Gon will take forever to explain it,” Killua grumbles, setting the vase on the tabletop. “In short, he got cursed and lost his body. I’m trying to get him back home, and these two are tagging along. We need to get to Candlestadt, which is miles away from here, and we’re sort of being… tracked.”

“So you need a shortcut or disguises,” Bisky concludes. Killua is starting to like her forwardness. “I can definitely help. Wait here.”

As soon as she disappears into the depths of the house, Kurapika sighs. “I’m not sure about this. She seems… I don’t know. Can we really trust a _cleric_? What could she possibly do to help us?”

_Clerics specialize in certain things,_ Gon replies. Killua can feel the vibration of his voice against the table. _Bisky is skilled with disguises and things like that. She’s very good at it. If you were disguised, you could travel without worrying about being recognized._

Killua raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t she… a kid? She looks younger than me.”

_She’s older than she looks,_ Gon replies carefully. _But trust me: she’s_ very _good at what she does. This is our best option._

“Indeed.” Bisky reappears with a box that she slams on the table, and Killua quickly grabs Gon before he can fall off. “Oops, sorry, Gon. Not used to you being an inanimate object.” She opens the box and takes out a small wax-paper packet secured with twine, placing it between Kurapika and Leorio. “This should do the trick.”

“What… is it?” Leorio pokes it with his pinkie, picking it up when it doesn’t explode. “It smells weird.”

“It’s a spell that will temporarily change the way you look.” Bisky takes it from him before he can open it. “And it’s _dangerous_ to mess around with. Just a sprinkle on the tip of the finger is enough. You wouldn’t want to be stuck looking like a different person forever, would you?”

Leorio jerks his hands away. “Uh… no thanks.”

“You said it was a _spell_?” Killua says after a moment. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like: a spell.” Bisky carefully unwraps the package, revealing a pile of fine dark blue powder. “It’s a mix of alchemy and some practical magic that will help alter the mind’s perception of appearance.” She dips the end of her finger in the dust. “Who’s first?”

Kurapika and Leorio are both making repulsed expressions, so Killua sighs and lifts a hand. “That’d be me, I guess.”

Bisky’s lips twitch. “Alright then. Close your eyes and hold your breath.”

Killua follows her instructions, scrunching his nose when the powder hits his face. He’s starting to feel light-headed when she tells him it’s safe to breathe again. The others are staring at him in a mix of shock and intrigue.

Leorio reaches out to poke his cheek. “Whoa, that’s… _creepy_.” Gon and Kurapika echo his ‘whoa.’

“What?” Killua swats his hand away irritably. “What did it do?”

“Look for yourself.” Bisky holds up a hand mirror, and Killua has to do a double-take.

“That’s _me_?” He marvels at the altered bone structure and significant changes to his features. His eyes have been turned a dark brown, and his face—which has much sharper angles—is half-hidden by curls of black hair. “How… how is this even possible?”

“ _Magic_ ,” Bisky enunciates slowly. “Blondie, you’re up next.”

***  *  *  *  ***

Kurapika and Leorio keep busy by staring at each other and narrating how they both look different. Leorio is shorter and redheaded, and Kurapika’s hair is dark brown, his eyes bluer than Killua’s. While those two talk, Bisky pulls Killua—and Gon—aside. “Gon, I think I can do something for you, too.”

_Really? Like what?_

“Well… your curse is pretty strong, but all it does is tie your soul to that vase. If you want, I can separate the physical part of your spirit and set it free. You’ll still be attached to the vase, of course, but you’ll have a corporeal form instead of just a voice.”

_You can… really do that?_

She nods. “But you’d have to be _extremely_ careful: the vase will still hold the heart of your spirit, so if anything were to happen to it, it could kill you. Do you still want—“

_Yes,_ Gon interrupts quickly. _I’ll be careful, I swear! Please do it!_

“Wait a second,” Killua protests. “Is that safe? Won’t he be more at risk?”

“Not exactly…” Bisky shrugs. “He’ll have the same level of risk, but he can keep track of the vase himself, which could make things easier for you.”

_I want to—no, I_ need _to do it,_ Gon insists. _I haven’t been able to do… well,_ anything _for a long time. I’ll be careful like you said. Just do it, Bisky._

“You heard him,” Killua sighs, handing her the vase. “Do what you need to do.”

“Okay then.” She sets him down on the table. “Just be warned that your soul will manifest as its current age, and even _I’m_ not certain what that is.”

_It’s okay. I’m ready. I want to see the world normally again._

“Okay. Prepare yourself.” Bisky places both hands against the vase and closes her eyes. “Killua, you might want to step back a little.”

Killua retreats a few steps obediently, keeping his eyes trained on Bisky and the vase. Gon will be a person again—or at least _look_ like one. It’s hard to imagine being able to talk to him face-to-face. How old is he? What does he look like? Are they the same height, or is he taller?

“Here we go,” Bisky mutters. She moves her hands, and a glowing shape detaches from a tiny crack that forms in the lid of the jar. It bends and grows, slowly shaping into a semi-translucent human outline. L

Kurapika and Leorio, who have only just noticed the commotion, move to stand next to Killua. He barely notices. The outline slowly grows clearer, until a proper person is standing in the center of the kitchen. Well, _almost_ a proper person: his skin shimmers a bit in the light.

“Is this… me?” Gon flexes his fingers experimentally, turning around like a dog looking for its tail. “I’m definitely older...” He looks at Killua with warm brown eyes and the brightest smile he’s ever seen. ”Hey, I think we might be the same age!”

Killua can barely stammer out a weak, “Yeah.”

Gon is like… light. He’s got dark skin and soft eyes and his face is somehow exactly how he expected it to look. He’s tall, too: taller than Killua.

“Wow, so _this_ is ghost jar kid?” Kurapika raises an eyebrow. “Why can we see you now?”

“If you’d been paying attention instead of flirting, you’d know why,” Killua says, forcing his brain to work right again. He tears his eyes away from Gon to roll them Kurapika’s way. “Huh, the spell made you look even more like a girl.”

“What was that?” Kurapika reaches for his neck, hands faltering when the rest of Killua's sentence sinks in. “I wasn’t _flirting_! With _this guy_? You little—“

“No fighting in my kitchen.” Bisky pushes Kurapika and Leorio toward the door. “My job is done, so you should get going. Wait outside while I talk to Killua for a second.” She grabs the vase from the table and hands it to Gon. “You too. Get out.”

“But—”

She’s already shoved him out before he can finish the protest. Killua opens his mouth, but Bisky shushes him. “I’ll make this quick: watch your back in the future.”

“What?” He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it isn’t _this_. “What do you mean?”

“That curse is dangerous,” Bisky says quietly, glancing out the window at Gon and the others. “I’m not sure how exactly, but I can tell something is going to go wrong for you in the future. I’m not telling you to try and stop you, but… just keep the warning in mind.” She shakes her head gently. “You should get going now.”

“You’re just going to tell me something cryptic like _that_ and then kick me out?” Killua protests as she drags him to the door. “But—”

“Keep him safe,” she interrupts, holding onto his collar for an extra second. “That’s all you can do.” Just like that, the talk is over, and she slams the door in his face.

Killua gets the feeling that his luck is about to get even worse.

***  *  *  *  ***

“This forest seems like it goes on forever.” Leorio squints through the trees, gesturing at the endless foliage. “It’s so dense that you can barely see. It would be easy to get lost.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Kurapika scolds, spurring his horse forward to whack him on the back of the head. “This is the quickest route. We’re already more than halfway through, anyway.”

“It’s getting dark, though,” Leorio points out. “We won’t be able to see anything.”

“Will you stop _complaining_ and—”

“He’s right,” Killua interrupts impatiently. “We should make camp for the night. We’ll get easily turned around in the dark.” He glances down at Gon, who’s been walking along beside them. Despite having a corporeal form, he can’t touch anything other than the vase. “Gon, think you can find us a clearing nearby?”

“I think I see one up ahead.” He points left through the trees. “It’s a mile or two that way.”

“You can see that far?”

“I have good eyesight.” He beams, which seems to brighten up their dark surroundings a little. “It looks safe to stay for the night.”

“Good enough for me. Let’s go.” Killua steers his mare to the left, and sure enough: there’s a clearing a few paces through the trees.

The group dismounts, and Killua sends Leorio off to find firewood while he and Kurapika work on crafting a shelter. Kurapika isn’t _completely_ useless and manages two decent makeshift tents out of moss and sticks. Leorio returns with an armful of wood, which completes their campsite. It almost seems _too_ quick and efficient, but thinking that is bad luck on its own.

It feels good to rest, at least. They’ve been riding all day, and they’ll have to ride all day tomorrow to reach the border of Candlestadt. It’s rewarding to be closer to their destination, but stopping to rest gives Killua’s thoughts a chance to catch up with him—which complicates things.

Gon is no longer a disembodied voice. Even if he can’t touch him, Killua can look at him and talk to him face-to-face, and that’s just… _weird_. It’s hard to have to tilt his head back so they can lock eyes, even if it’s only a centimeter or two. It’s hard to think of him as a real _person_ instead of a vase.

“Is something wrong, Killua?” Speak of the devil: Gon pops into sight out of nowhere, annoyingly cheerful. “Are you getting tired? You should go sleep in one of the shelters.”

“I’m fine, and I’m sleeping here,” he mutters, collapsing on his back beside the fire. It’s still hard to look Gon in the eyes. “I’m not sharing with either of those idiots.”

“Okay. I’ll stay with you, then.” Gon sits beside him, barely a foot away. He’s quiet for all of two minutes before opening his mouth again. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but… is there anything you want to know about me? Now that we can actually talk, I mean.”

“Anything?” Killua thinks about it. “Do you really not remember how you got cursed?”

“I don’t.” The leaves on the ground rustle as Gon shifts to lay down next to him. “I can remember my family and my life, but I don’t remember how I lost my body, or why.”

“Hm.” Killua closes his eyes, pretending he can see stars above instead of interlocking tree branches. “When we do find your body, how do you take it back? Do you know how to break the curse?”

“Ah… I thought I’d think about that when I really needed to.”

Killua can’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” He hesitates, listening to the sound of the firewood shifting. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure. I did say anything.”

“Yeah... Then I want to know what _you_ would wish for.”

“What I would wish for?” Gon repeats. “I don’t really know… I guess I don’t have a wish right now, other than becoming myself again. What about you?”

“I thought I knew, but…” Killua opens his eyes again and watches the firelight reflect off Gon’s skin. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

* * *

**7 - how far we’ve come**

* * *

The border of Candlestadt isn’t the end of their journey: not by a long shot. Gon’s home is still two days away, and they’re running low on money. Leorio had the most among them, but after the horses, they barely have enough to buy food. To make matters worse, Kurapika’s crew is already there when they arrive, so they’re forced to rest in an old barn for the night.

Leorio, of course, won’t stop complaining. “This is terrible. How’d they even find us?” He stops his frantic pacing to look up at the others. “You know, I meant to ask this sooner, but _why_ are so many people trying to kill you three?”

Kurapika and Killua look at each, then away. “It's a long story,” Killua supplies. “Too long to explain right now. We should be more worried about restocking on supplies. We need food and water.”

“What we _need_ is money,” Kurapika replies, collapsing against the barn’s sturdiest wall. “We barely have any left.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out.” Gon tries to pat his shoulder, but his hand goes right through. “Oops… Well, we definitely have enough money for food, right? There’s only two days left, so we won’t need it after that.”

“Assuming nothing else goes wrong,” Kurapika corrects. “We have a pretty bad track record when it comes to luck. We might need money for an emergency.”

“Food _is_ an emergency,” Killua argues. “Water, too. We can’t live without it—and we’ve been through plenty of emergencies without using any money.”

“Let’s not argue about it,” Leorio intervenes before things can get heated. “I’ll go into town and see about getting food and water, and maybe some extra money. You three just stay here.”

He disappears out the crooked barn door, leaving Kurapika and Killua to glare at each other while Gon tries to smooth things over. “Hey, I’m sure we’ll be okay. Everyone is just on edge because of the bounty hunters, and—“

“And Kurapika’s frenemies?” Killua scoffs, stripping off his jacket to use as a pillow. “Yeah, _real_ great that they’re chasing us, too.”

“That’s not _my_ fault,” Kurapika grumbles, sitting against the wall farthest away from him. “You’re the one who told the _whole_ ship about Gon’s treasure just to save yourself. It’s really _your_ fault that—“

“Shut up.”

“You want to say that again—“

“ _Seriously_ ,” Killua hisses, “just shut up for half a second… Do you hear that?” They all listen intently, and the sound of footsteps is clear as day. “ _That_. That sounds like a lot of people.”

“You’re right.” Kurapika pulls out a knife and presses his back against the wall beside the door. “Whoever it is, they’re getting closer. I can’t tell how many…” He counts quietly to himself. “Two… Six… Sounds like about fifteen people.”

“Not your crew, then.” Killua grabs Kurapika by the sleeve and pulls him behind a stack of hay. “We can’t fight that many. Hide for now. Gon, get over here.”

“Sorry.” Gon grabs his vase and slips in beside them—only seconds before a booted foot kicks the barn door open.

“Those aren’t pirates,” Killua whispers, eyes flicking from their bloody swords to the ripped red bandanas around their necks. “They're _bandits_.”

“Leorio will walk right into this,” Kurapika mutters under his breath. “We have to warn him somehow. Gon?”

“I’ll go,” Gon agrees. “I can slip right through the wall.”

“Be careful,” Killua barely has time to warm before Gon disappears. He turns back to the front, gripping fistfuls of hay. “God, I have the _worst_ feeling about this…”

***  *  *  *  ***

Killua isn’t sure how long they stay hidden behind the stacks of hay, but it’s long enough for his legs to lose feeling. The bandits must’ve had the same problem they did: getting unwanted attention. They seem intent on staying the whole night, which means Kurapika and Killua will be stuck _standing_ the whole night. The only thing that could make this worse is—

The door is kicked open for the second time, and Upi appears in the doorway. His head is wrapped with a bandage, but his eyes are clear and angry. “They’re not here!”

One of the bandits draws his sword and points it at Upi’s chest. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Who are _you_?” one of the other pirates demands, drawing his own weapon.

“I asked you first!” Now they’re all waving swords at each other: it’s a stalemate.

Killua rolls his eyes back as far as they’ll go. “This is just getting out of hand. If anyone else shows up, we’d have a— Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.“

“Well, what do we have here?” Hisoka appears like a ghost from behind the group of pirates, scaring them further into the barn. “It’s like a Mexican standoff.”

Three enemies in one place? Killua wants to laugh, but the noise would give him away. But the mess they’re in now is no laughing matter: surrounded on all sides by people who’ll want them dead, even if they are disguised. Who knows how long they’ll be stuck hiding. With any luck, Gon was able to find Leorio and warn him… But they still need to do _something_.

“We need to get out of here,” Killua whispers. “They’re going to be at each other’s throats soon: we should be able to make a run for it without being noticed. From there, we can find Gon and Leorio.”

Kurapika nods. “We’ll have to act fast.”

“I got it. Just keep your eyes open.” Killua inches closer to the edge of the hay, keeping his eyes on Hisoka and Illumi, who are still blocking the doorway. Hisoka is notorious for always picking fights so with any luck, he’ll set everyone off soon.

As expected: Hisoka takes a few languid steps into the room, a twisted smile on his face. Everyone is pointing their weapons at him rather than each other, which goes to show that even they can sense how dangerous he is. Illumi waits beside the door, as expressionless as usual. He too knows there’s going to be a fight.

The only good thing they have going for them right now is Hisoka’s bloodlust. He knifes one of the bandits, and all hell breaks loose. There’s enough commotion for Killua to slip away without being seen, and Kurapika meets him outside. “Let’s go find the others and get out of here.”

“We’re over here!” Gon appears from behind the trees that surround the barn, Leorio right behind him. “We were trying to think of a way to save you, but I guess we didn’t have to. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Killua dismisses quickly. “We need to get as far away as possible. Everyone who’s after us is _literally_ in one place, so the sooner the better.”

“The horses are saddled and ready,” Leorio says, pointing through the trees. He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

He’s looking at Kurapika when he asks, and the pirate quickly pushes past him. The dark can’t hide how red his face is, and Killua _really_ doubts it’s from adrenaline. “I’m fine,” Kurapika grumbles. “Get moving already. We can make it at least fifty miles before sunrise.”

“What— Hey, you don’t even know where you’re going.” Leorio runs after him, and Killua rolls his eyes.

“Idiots, both of them. Thank god we only have to be stuck with them for two more days.” He trudges ahead, pausing when Gon doesn’t follow. “What’s up?”

“About Kurapika and Leorio…” Gon bites his lip. “What are you going to tell them when we get there and they find out the treasure isn’t real?”

“Well…” Killua’s lips twist into a grin. “Like you said before: I thought I’d think about it when I really need to.”

***  *  *  *  ***

After another solid two days of traveling, Killua has lost feeling in his legs. He’s never ridden a horse before, and he doesn’t want to do it _ever again_. At least they’re finally about to reach their destination: Gon says his house is only a few miles away.

“It’s hard to believe that after so long, I’m finally going home again,” Gon says while they’re stopping to rest their legs. “I guess it’s been longer than I thought, too… I wonder what it’ll be like.”

“I’m sure things haven’t changed that much. Are you nervous?” Killua’s been watching Kurapika and Leorio share a water canteen in disgust, but he glances over at Gon when he doesn’t reply. “Hey, don’t worry too much. I’m sure your family will be really happy to see you.”

Seeing him frown is disheartening. “Yeah… I guess so. At the very least, they can tell me how I got cursed.” He smiles a little. “And they can grant you your wish.”

“Yeah… About that, I—“

“Gon, Killua, hurry up,” Kurapika calls. He’s already back on his horse. “We’ve stayed here long enough!”

“Coming!” Killua yells back. “We’ll talk later,” he says to Gon with what he hopes passes for a reassuring smile. “Let’s go.”

They take off again, and Killua can’t stop thinking. About Gon, about his wish, about _everything_. He thought he was selfish, but it’s impossible to deny that he’s starting to feel attached to Gon. He isn’t even sure what he wants anymore.

He doesn’t get much time to think about it. When they reach the forest path leading up to Gon’s house, Killua notices the unnerving silence. There’s no branches rustling, no birds chirping: nothing at all. The closer they get, the more he feels anxious.

Kurapika seems to sense the same thing. “Something isn’t right,” he says, slowing his horse. “Smell the air.”

Killua tilts his head back. “Is that… smoke?”

“Ash,” Leorio corrects. “It smells like there’s been a fire recently.”

All of their suspicions are confirmed when their horses crest the next hill. There’s a house—or there _was_. Charred wooden foundation is all that’s left of the building that once stood here. Judging from the undisturbed ash, the fire happened a long time ago.

“Gon—“ Killua starts, but Gon has already taken off running. “Hey, wait!” He dismounts and races after him, but he can’t grab his arm to stop him—and Gon can’t do anything but stare at the piles of ash and debris.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers. “Where are they? What _happened_?” A few tears fall down his cheeks, disappearing like drops of light. “Are… are they all dead?”

“Gon.” Killua reaches for him instinctively, and he can swear his hand makes contact for half a second before passing through him.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Kurapika offers. He and Leorio are lingering a few feet back. “There are no bones in the ash.”

“But you don’t _know_ ,” Gon murmurs, wiping at his face. “It’s been so long that I… I don’t know what I might’ve missed…” He pauses to compose himself. “I guess I was gone for longer than I thought.”

Killua doesn’t want to pressure him, but Kurapika misses his sentiments. “If your family is alive, do you know where they might’ve gone?”

“What does his family have to do with the treas— _Ow_.” Leorio rubs his arm after Kurapika punches him. “Okay, sorry. Geez. Any idea where they are?

Gon shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

“Well, we’ll just ask around for information,” Killua reassures, shooing Leorio and Kurapika back toward the horses. “Someone must know what happened here.”

“Killua, wait,” Gon says before he can follow the others. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“What is it?” Killua moves so they’re an arms-length apart, searching Gon’s eyes. He looks distraught, but not panicked. Good. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He shakes his head. “If my family didn’t make it, I’m… I’m sorry about your wish. I know that’s why you helped me. I got you into this mess, and I won’t even be able to repay you.”

“Don’t say that,” Killua says harshly. “That’s the _last_ thing I—“ He sucks in a breath when he realizes he’s grabbing Gon’s shoulder. As soon as they both notice, however, Killua’s hand sinks right through again.

“How’d you…” Gon begins.

“I don’t know.” Killua shakes his head. “That… isn’t important right now. Do you honestly think the wish is all I care about?” He hesitates. “I mean, it might’ve been at first, but… I honestly _don’t know_ anymore.”

Gon looks confused: Killua can’t blame him when _he_ doesn’t even understand what he’s saying. “Nevermind. Just… I’m going to help you, wish or not. Okay?”

“Okay… Thank you.” Gon finishes wiping off his face and flashes a gentle smile that makes Killua question himself even more. “I’ve only made it this far because of you.”

“Idiot,” Killua mutters under his breath. “I told you already… don’t thank me yet.”

* * *

**8 - downpour**

* * *

Only one person in all of Candlestadt knows where Gon’s family might be: a short way to the east, in a small village called Lanercoast. Killua has never heard of it, but Gon seems relieved by this answer, explaining that his family owns a shrine there. Despite the promising news, things are quiet on the ride there.

Killua has been thinking hard, but he still can’t decide how he really feels. He’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t get a wish… Or will he? Does he even _want_ one anymore? The only thing he would wish for seems insignificant now. Hell, he might even _want_ to help Gon. His head is a mess.

“Killua? Killua, are you listening?”

“Wha— Yeah, yeah. What?”

“I said we’re approaching the village now.” Kurapika scrutinizes Killua’s face for a moment too long. “What’s wrong with you? You look pale.”

“That’s just my face,” he says irritably, spurring his horse to go faster. “Go away.”

If he does look pale, it’s not all that surprising. None of them have been able to sleep since the confrontation at the barn, and his brain is working overtime on stupid moral questions it’s never had to think about before. Killua has been hoping he’ll figure it out before they arrive in Lanercoast, but no such luck. _Of course_. Now they’re a few miles away, and Killua still has no idea what he’s going to do.

Wishing for his family’s death seems foolish now. Gon was so devastated when he thought he’d lost his: it would only be rubbing salt in the wound. No matter how much he hates them, wasting a wish on them is stupid. He’ll have to think of something else, or just refuse the wish entirely...

On top of that, there’s the problem of his lie to Leorio and Kurapika. Even if they’ve started acting more friendly toward him, they’ll be pissed when they find out he fabricated the treasure. He could always use his wish on a treasure to placate them, but knowing Kurapika, he’ll still want to stab him for the betrayal.

“We’re here.” Speak of the devil: Kurapika trots up beside him, pointing across the misty hills they’ve been riding through for hours. “Lanercoast.”

Peeking through the thick curls of fog is a small town of high-steepled buildings, clustered together in the loose shape of a cross. The mist clears the closer they get to it, revealing rows and rows of blue poppies surrounding the town. Gon runs ahead to pick one, turning back to smile at Killua. “Blue poppies! I’ve never seen them before. I’ve heard they only grow in this region.”

Killua dismounts and picks his own, scrutinizing the blue petals. “It’s really bright. Do they grow here naturally?”

“I think there’s a myth that a wizard spread magic seeds here,” Kurapika inputs, taking the flower from him. “These are supposed to bring you good luck; right, Gon?”

Gon nods, running his fingers over the blue petals. “My parents used to bring them back whenever they traveled here.”

“Maybe you can bring them one,” Killua says, passing him his own flower. Just like before, he feels the briefest moment of contact between them before Gon takes it and the moment is lost. He clears his throat, nodding at the town gate. “Uh… Let’s go.”

They start walking again, and Killua keeps his eyes on the sky. It looks like a storm is coming.

***  *  *  *  ***

“Where’d this rain come from? It came out of nowhere!”

“It doesn’t matter: just keep running!”

“Here!” Killua yells over the gusting wind, gesturing at an old abandoned shed.

Kurapika kicks the door open, and they pile inside breathlessly. The wind is so strong that it takes both Leorio and Killua’s help to pull the door closed again. Killua has never seen such a strong storm before: it must be a seaside thing. The wind seems powerful enough to rip the shop’s cracked windows right out of their frames.

Leorio takes off his blue police overcoat, wringing out enough water for a decent bath. “Geez, I haven’t seen a downpour like this in years,” he says through chattering teeth. “It’s insane.”

“We need to dry our clothes before we catch our deaths,” Kurapika mutters, tugging off his soaked undershirt. “There’s wood in the corner we can start a fire with. What’s with that stupid look on your face, Leorio? We’re wasting time.”

“Nothing!” Leorio quickly averts his gaze, tripping over his own feet to reach the pile of splintered furniture in the corner. “I’m on it.”

Clueless idiots. Killua rolls his eyes, stripping off his own wet clothes. They fabric so soaked that they feel like a second skin. “Dammit… It’s cold.” He hangs them on the windowsill, pausing to listen to the howling wind. “This doesn’t look like it’ll end anytime soon.”

“Storms like this usually only last a couple of hours,” Kurapika says, setting his clothes out beside Killua’s. “I’ve seen more than a few of them at sea. We need a chance to rest, anyway: might as well take it. Nobody else will venture out in this weather.”

He’s right: they’re all exhausted, and even bounty hunters like Hisoka and his brother won’t go out in such a bad storm. At least, Killua _really_ hopes they won’t. Still, it’s annoying being stuck in one place. They’d barely made it to the northern edge of Lanercoast when the rain started, and their destination is still much farther than that.

“I’ve got the fire going,” Leorio says from the corner, offering the only piece of good news they’ve had in days.

The fire makes the room seem smaller, but the warmth is a welcome distraction from the bone-chilling wind and the rain that drips through the cracked roof. After his clothes are dry, Killua puts them on and hugs his knees to his chest. He’s almost asleep when Kurapika speaks.

“It’s hard to believe we’re so close.”

“You shouldn’t be the one saying that,” Killua sighs, opening one eye. He wants to say more, but Gon is giving him a warning look, so he changes the subject. “I hate the rain.”

“I like it.” Kurapika leans against the wall with a smile that’s much softer than his usual expressions. “It reminds me of home. It’s very far from here, and it’s always raining. The dry season only makes up thirty percent of the year.”

“I just realized I don’t know anything about either of you,” Leorio says with a frown. “We’ve been running around nonstop without time to get to know each other. Killua, what’s your home like?”

“My home?” Killua holds back a scoff. “It’s not a place I remember fondly. I don’t get along well with my family.” He shakes his head. “Does it even matter how much we know about each other? Actions speak louder than words. I know you from how you act.”

Everyone is silent for a while before Kurapika chuckles. “I guess he’s right. We haven’t been traveling together for very long, but I also feel like I know you all well.”

“That’s unusually sappy for you,” Killua says to lighten up the gushy atmosphere.

“Oh, shut up—”

There’s a loud and violent _crash!_ but it isn’t thunder. The door has been thrown open, and unfortunately _not_ by the storm. Through the gusts of wind and rain, Illumi and Hisoka are illuminated by the firelight and bright flashes of white lightning.

Just when Killua was starting to think his luck was changing.

***  *  *  *  ***

Illumi is the first to move out of all six of them, stepping fully into the tiny shed. “Kil, your resilience surprised me. It took far too long to find you again. That disguise is an unfair advantage.”

“Run!” Kurapika yells, but Hisoka knees him in the chest when he tries to pass and throws him against the shed wall. Leorio rushes to catch him before he can fall, eyes wide as he desperately glances at Killua. _What are we going to do?_ he’s screaming silently, but Killua has no idea.

“Grab him,” Illumi orders, and Hisoka has Killua by the neck before he can even flinch. Damn, he forgot how fast this creep is.

“Get the hell off me!” Killua tries to kick him, but his legs won’t reach. “I’m not going back with you! I’d rather die!

“That can be arranged.” Hisoka pulls out a knife, pressing it against the hollow of Killua’s throat with a too-creepy smirk. “Illumi might not want you dead, but _I_ do—and I doubt he could stop me.”

“Wait!” The interruption comes from, surprisingly, Gon. He can’t throw himself between Hisoka and Killua, but he tries his best, edging in as far as he can without touching either of them. “Don’t hurt him,” he says more quietly. _Idiot_. What the hell is he trying to do?

“Get out of the way,” Killua warns. He can see the fiery look inGon’s eyes, and he already knows what he’s going to do next. “Don’t say another word—”

“Why should we let him go?” Illumi interrupts, black eyes gleaming with the next flash of lightning. “This is my little brother. His family wants to see him terribly.”

Thank god Leorio is too preoccupied helping Kurapika to be listening to this… But Gon is the biggest problem right now. “Let him go, and… and I’ll lead you to a treasure.”

“You idiot!” Killua exclaims before Hisoka’s grip cuts off his air. What the hell is Gon doing using that lie? He’s just getting himself into as much trouble as Killua already has. _Dammit_.

“A treasure?” Hisoka echoes. “Are you sure you’re not lying to us to save him?” His fingers tighten, and Killua grits his teeth to keep from gasping. Shit, he can’t breathe.

“I’m sure,” Gon says desperately. “If you let Killua and the others go, I’ll take you to it. I promise—”

A piece of wood slices through the air faster than the bolts of lightning outside, hitting Hisoka hard in the shoulder. His grip on Killua’s throat loosens and he crashes to the ground, barely managing to land on his feet. Leorio grabs Killua by the wrist as soon as he lands the hit. “Run!”

Killua, still struggling to get his breath, lets Leorio drag him out the door and into the middle of the storm. The wind hits them from every side at once. It’s impossible to see with the rain smacking his face. Killua has to shake off Leorio’s hand to shield his eyes. “Where’s Gon?!” he shouts over the wind. “And Kurapika?!”

“Over— _Ack_!” A knife spears out of the haze of rain and hits Leorio in the shoulder. Kurapika appears to catch him with Gon right behind him. He must’ve snuck outside while Illumi and Hisoka were distracted.

“We need to get out of here!” he yells, struggling to get Leorio back into an upright position. “We don’t have much farther to go! Let’s run!”

“They’ll chase us!” Killua yells back, shaking off his hand impatiently. He searches for Hisoka and Illumi in the storm, but it’s too hard to see. “We need to kill them, or they’ll keep tracking us! It’s the only way!” He grabs Leorio’s sleeve to tug him down to ear-level. “Listen: take Gon and go find his family! Kurapika and I will stay to fight!”

Leorio seems like he wants to argue, but after Kurapika squeezes his shoulder, he nods. “Okay, but be careful! Gon, let’s go!” He takes off, quickly disappearing into the storm.

“Not so fast!” Hisoka darts out of the rain, knife in hand.

Killua lunges for him, frantically latching onto his arm. They go down hard, rolling across the muddy ground in a painful tangle of limbs. Illumi appears in a flash of lightning, kicking Kurapika in the side when he tries to block his path. At the same time, Hisoka manages to shake Killua off.

“ _No_!” Killua throws out his good leg desperately, managing to knock Hisoka off balance. Muddy water splashes up from the impact of his fall, making Kurapika stumble when it hits his face. This gives Illumi the chance to sprint past him, heading in the direction Leorio took off.

“Kurapika!” The desperation in Killua’s voice conveys the rest of his message: _Stop him at all costs._

“ _You_ go!” Kurapika pulls him to his feet and pushes him away roughly. His eyes are saying that he understands everything: Illumi is the one Killua needs to face. This pirate is more intuitive than he looks.

Killua hesitates, then nods once before taking off through the mud. He’s been waiting for this for a long time, ever since Illumi tortured him as a kid. Ever since he stabbed his mother and left home. Ever since his family tried and failed to find him a dozen times. It’s all been leading up to this final confrontation. It’s almost laughable how meeting Gon set off such a huge chain reaction of events.

“Illumi!” Killua’s voice finds the space between two booms of thunder, and his brother turns. Killua wastes no time in lunging at him. He locks his arms around Illumi’s chest, but he isn’t strong enough to hold him down for long. An elbow catches him in the side of the head, and the last thing he sees before he blacks out is Illumi’s retreating form disappearing into the haze of the storm.

* * *

**9 - beautiful broken things**

* * *

****Killua’s face itches. Or, no… it’s just wet from the rain. Illumi knocked him out, and he’s been lying here in the rain for… How long _has_ he been here? His limbs are numb from the cold, and there’s water up his nose.

He peels his eyes open, nearly going blind from a flash of lightning. He needs to get up. He needs to get up and find the others. Who knows how long it’s been: they could be… No, it’s pointless to think like that.

Even though his bones feel like rubber, Killua manages to get up and stumble through the mud. The footprints haven’t been washed away yet, so it hasn’t been very long. There’s still a chance he can catch up. No matter what, Killua refuses to let Illumi and Hisoka get their hands on Gon.

Illumi must’ve hit him hard. His head is spinning, but he knows he can’t stop running. Where _are_ they? They can’t have gone too far. The footprints lead into the thick forest at the edge of Lanercoast, which the ocean borders on three sides. It spans for miles in every direction: it would be impossible to find them without the trail.

Killua thinks about calling out for the others, but he doesn’t want to give his position away. He can’t even _begin_ to think of a plan for stopping his brother. They’ve been at odds forever, and Illumi has more than proven his stubbornness. It’s not going to be easy to take him down…

“Killua!”

“Leorio?” Killua squints into the rain. Leorio is struggling through the ankle-deep mud. He rushes to meet him. “Where are the others?”

“Up ahead.” Leorio grabs him by the wrist and drags him forward. “I was coming back for you. Kurapika is taking on both of them at once, and things don’t look good. I tried to help, but—“

“Take me to them,” Killua interrupts impatiently. Kurapika won’t be able to fight them both alone. “ _Hurry_!”

They stumble through the thick mud, which pulls on Killua’s feet like quicksand. As soon as they get to higher ground, he sees a struggling Kurapika. He’s somehow managed to take down Hisoka, but he’s starting to lose the battle of willpower with Illumi, who has Hisoka’s knife.

Killua lunges forward to pull him out of the way of a fatal strike. Kurapika trips in the mud and falls, hitting the ground face-first when Leorio slips while trying to grab him. Gon stumbles over to Killua, holding his vase tightly. “Killua, you’re okay!”

“Gon, get behind me!” he snaps, putting himself between Illumi and the others. “It’s time to end this,” he says to his brother. “If you give up now, I won’t kill you.”

“Oh, Kil, you’re not experienced enough to be saying things like that.” Illumi cracks his neck, wiping water off Hisoka’s knife. “Are you sure you want to fight me? I don’t really want to kill you.”

“Oh?” Killua cracks a smile. “That’s funny, because I _really_ want to kill you.” He turns to address Leorio. “Get the others out of here.”

“But—“

“Go. _Now_.” He glares at Illumi’s annoyingly calm face. “This is between the two of us, and nobody else.”

***  *  *  *  ***

It’s been a long time since Killua has had to fight his brother. The last time was when he was seven, and they had a ‘sparring match’ that nearly killed him. His parents claimed it was good for an assassin to get used to near-fatal injuries, but he never fought Illumi again. Their rematch is inevitable now, of course, and Illumi is much more excited than Killua is.

“I hope you know that I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Killua ignores him and tries to knock him off his feet, but Illumi easily dodges and disappears into the trees. Between the rain and the mud, chasing after him is like searching for a needle in a haystack. Maybe baiting him is the best option… But if he’s going after the others, it’s a waste of time to try.

“You’re overthinking things, Kil,” Illumi drones. Killua doesn’t have time to react before a foot hits him in the side. He clears the tree-line, rolling painfully across gravelly sand. They’ve reached the coast.

“Why are you doing this?” Killua mutters, pushing himself up on one arm. “You don’t need any treasure, and I won’t come back with you no matter what. Just give up and leave me alone.”

“This is fun,” is all Illumi says in reply. Killua dodges another kick, but a foot slams down hard on his wrist while he’s distracted. There’s a sharp, painful _crack!_ “Don’t you think this is fun, Kil?”

“Not even a little.” Killua throws out his leg to catch Illumi’s ankle, knocking him off balance for barely long enough to celebrate. Illumi’s knife leaves a gash across his arm when he jumps backward to avoid it and slips. It’s much harder fighting in the rain.

“Killua, watch out!” Kurapika appears out of nowhere, surprising Illumi with a roundhouse kick that knocks him off his feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Killua demands. “I told you to run away!”

“You should be thanking me for helping you,” Kurapika replies acridly. “Don’t worry: Leorio and Gon are safe and far away— Oh my god.”

“That ‘oh my god’ better not be because they’re here— _And_ they’re here. Jesus Christ.”

“Killua, are you okay?” Gon asks, radiating concern. “I couldn’t just stay away while you—“

“Pay attention!” Kurapika yanks Killua out of the way of Illumi’s next attack, getting kneed in the process. Leorio pulls him to the side before he can get stabbed.

Killua can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He underestimated Illumi before: he’s _strong_. If it’s three versus one, they might actually have a chance. “If you’re going to stay, help me,” he tells Kurapika after dodging a knife swipe from Illumi. He must be pissed off now. “If we all attack, we might be able to overpower him.”

“It’s not a very solid plan, but I’m in,” Leorio agrees first. “Anything to get out of this rain.”

“I’m in, too,” Kurapika confirms.

“Good.” Killua hesitates to glance at Gon. “Gon, stay back, okay? If anything happens to that jar…”

“I know.” Gon’s grip tightens on the vase. “I wish I could help, but… I’ll stay back.”

“Good,” Killua repeats. He pauses to dodge another attack, knocking Illumi off balance again. He keeps bouncing between them like a fishing lure. “Kurapika, Leorio: on my signal, we rush him.” After they nod in confirmation, Killua turns his full attention on his brother. Luckily, Illumi is focused on him.

“You’re still weak, Kil.” Illumi shakes his head in disappointment. “You can never fight your own battles. Even when you stabbed Mother and ran away—“

“He did _what_?” Leorio whispers to nobody.

“—you were just being a coward,” Illumi finishes. “You don’t have the strength to make a great assassin. You never have. If you only _cultivated_ your natural talent, you could—“

“Shut up already,” Killua interrupts. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Behind his back, he starts a countdown from five. “I’ve given up on living how the family wants me to.”  _Four_. “I want to live for myself.” _Three_. “There are things I want to do now. Things that don’t involve you or anyone else from that godforsaken house.”  _Two_. “I’m moving on.” _One_. “And you can’t stop me.”

As soon as his last finger is down, Killua launches himself forward with Leorio and Kurapika on his heels. Illumi tries to leap backward, but Kurapika is smaller and faster than him. He grabs one of Illumi’s arms, which gives Leorio time to grab his leg. Killua is the deciding blow, tackling him head-on. They go rolling across the sand, and the knife slips out of Illumi’s grasp.

Kurapika grabs it out of the sand, and a wave of silence washes over everyone when he frantically plunges it into Illumi’s chest. It really shouldn’t have been so easy, but Killua supposes that Kurapika is a _wilder_ wild card than he thought. The pirate is full of surprises, this being the best one.

But Illumi isn’t going to die: that would be _too_ lucky. He pulls out the knife and wipes off the blood. “Maybe this _isn’t_ very fun. Kil, when you’re ready, let’s fight properly, okay?” His patronizing tone is enough to make Killua want to stab him again, but he doesn’t get the chance.

Illumi glances at the ocean, and Killua senses what he’s going to do a second too late. He lunges at him, fingertips not even brushing his shirt sleeve before Illumi throws the knife and dives into the waves. Kurapika and Killua are about to follow him when Leorio grabs them both by the shirts. The look in his eyes is enough to turn Killua’s blood to ice.

He follows Leorio’s eyes and feels his heart stop. Gon is staring at the vase in his arms. There’s a crack slowly spiderwebbing across the surface—and his hands are starting to disappear.

***  *  *  *  ***

Not possible. It’s not possible. After coming so far and going through so much, everything is falling apart when they’re so _close_. It can’t be happening. Killua know his luck is bad, but why is it _this_ bad?

The vase slipping from Gon’s hands is what brings him back to his senses. Killua lunges forward to catch it, but it shatters completely in his grasp. “No. Shit. _Shit_. No. No, no, no.”

“Killua…” Gon stumbles. Killua trips toward him, but his fingers grab fistfuls of empty air. “Killua,” Gon tries again, “it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” he yells over the shrieking wind. “How the hell can you say that?! This will… this will _kill_ you! Why didn’t you stay back like I asked?!” He’s yelling. He can’t help it. How can this be happening? “You’re… dying, and I can’t even—” He cuts himself off before his voice can break.

“You got me this far,” Gon says quietly, smile bright even during such a dark time. “All of you did. I got to experience the world again because of you. It made me really happy.” He lifts his hand, which is slowly dissolving into bits of blue light, like a cloud of fireflies. “I want to say thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” Killua’s hands cinch around his shirt hem: he wants to grab onto Gon, but he can’t. “Stop talking in the past tense, idiot. Tell him.” He looks to Kurapika and Leorio for help, but their eyes are downcast: he’s alone on this. “Dammit. You… you owe me a wish, so you can’t disappear.” _You can’t disappear before I get to meet the real you,_ is what he wants to say.

Gon closes his eyes, and the tears that slip from them turn into light, just like the rest of him. His limbs are dissolving into blue specks that float into the air, unbothered by the pouring rain. They really do look like fireflies… They’re blindingly bright. How ironic that Killua only recently called Gon _light_.

“You can still get your wish. If you visit my family, tell them I owe you a favor. I think I’d like for them to know I tried to get home before—” He opens his eyes when Killua grabs onto him. “Killua, you’re... hugging me.”

“Shut up. Stop talking.” Killua holds him out of pure spite. “I told you I’d help you, wish or not. I don’t want anything, so _don’t go_. I’ll kill you if you die here.” He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch Gon disappear. “It’s not fair. This is too fast. You didn’t get any time.”

“It’s okay,” Gon says again, more insistently this time. “I got to actually _live_ for a while, so I really need to thank you. It’s time to worry about the things we were putting off.” A hand brushes his cheek; a touch lighter than the rain. “Hey… open your eyes, okay?”

Killua shakes his head, but he obeys anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Gon’s hand is almost gone, but he keeps it pressed against Killua’s face. “Please… go see my family. That’s all I want, I think. Tell them they can let me go now.” He pauses, a flickering smile lighting his translucent face. “Oh yeah… You remember how I didn’t know what to wish for? I think I finally figured it out.”

“What? What is it?”

“Close your eyes again, and I’ll tell you.”

Killua has barely followed the instructions when he feels Gon’s lips against his. His eyes fly open again, but the touch has already faded away, along with the rest of Gon. The remaining blue lights drift into the sky, disappearing among the rain.

“Dammit…” Killua collapses, breaking down for a moment before he pulls himself back together. Kurapika and Leorio are watching him with desolate expressions.

Kurapika steps forward, but he doesn’t touch him. “Are you… alright?”

“I will be.” Killua pauses to take a shuddering breath, squaring away the rest of his despair. There will be time to feel it later. “Gather the shards of the vase. No matter how broken things have gotten… I’m going to see this through to the very end.”

* * *

**10 - what i really wish**

* * *

****It feels surreal standing on Gon’s family’s porch looking out at the seaside. Or maybe ‘painful’ is a better word. It’s _painful_ to be standing here alone. Gon’s family took the news of his passing surprisingly well, which somehow made things even harder. Kurapika and Leorio’s anger over the treasure being fake was a bit comforting, but it soon dulled after tea and biscuits.

“Killua.” Speak of the devil: Kurapika appears in the doorway of the cottage, dressed in a red-and-white tabard Gon’s aunt gave to him. The disguise spell has work off, and he’s back to his old self. He looks much calmer now: the whole family has that effect. “Mito-san says she’ll take you to see Gon now.”

Killua glances at him, then sighs. “Yeah, okay. Give me a second.”

Kurapika disappears back inside without another word, and Killua is grateful for it. He fiddles with the sleeves of the white monk’s robe he was forced into wearing, closing his eyes to listen to Kurapika and Leorio bickering inside. Everything feels so _normal_ , despite all that’s happened. Killua knows he can’t mope around forever. He promised Gon he’d see his body, and he wants to bury the shards of the vase with him. Maybe after that, it’ll be easier to let him go.

Killua sighs and goes back inside. Kurapika is preoccupied trying to fix Leorio’s blue robes, which he’s undoubtedly wearing wrong. Killua nods to Gon’s aunt, Mito, and she smiles at him softly. “Something in your eyes has changed,” she says. “Did you come to a realization?”

“You could say that.” He keeps his eyes downcast. “I’m ready to go.”

“Follow me.” Mito stands and leads him outside, down a winding path that leads back into the forest on the edge of the property. Gon wasn’t kidding when he said they had a shrine: the cottage is only a small part of the land his family owns, which includes a big part of the forest they were in earlier.

The wind that blows inland from the sea carries a salty mist, almost like the ocean is crying. It’s rather fitting.

The shrine is on top of a hill deep in the forest, overshadowed by a thick grove of ancient camphor trees. Mito leaves Killua alone at the entrance, which is faintly lit by paper lanterns. A draft sweeps outward from inside, blowing back the edges of Killua’s robe. It makes him shiver, but he steps beyond the faded torii gate anyway.

Past piles of parchment scrolls and antique statues of yokai sits a waist-high wooden platform, its base covered in talismans. Killua feels his heart seize when the shifting lantern light reveals Gon’s body, pristine and identical to his old apparition. The talismans must be what’s keeping him so perfect.

Amazing… He really looks like he’s only sleeping.

Killua moves as close as he dares, reaching into his sleeve to retrieve the package of vase shards that Mito wrapped in wax paper. He sets them gently beside Gon’s unmoving hand, holding his breath when he touches it. It’s not cold, like it should be. It’s warm.

Being able to touch him is what finally breaks him. Killua can’t stop the sob that builds in his throat and crashes over his lips like a breaking wave. There are so many things he wants to say, but no words will come out. All he can do is hold Gon’s hand and cry.

***  *  *  *  ***

It takes a while for him to pull himself back together. Killua hasn’t properly cried in so long that it feels foreign to him. Apologizing is even stranger. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Gon’s hand. “I’m sorry for messing everything up. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. You were just a vase, and then…” He laughs, but not because it’s funny. “I didn’t ask your family for a wish. I guess that doesn’t matter now, since you can’t hear me.”

Killua rests his head against Gon’s arm. He smells like sunlight, earthy and pure. “I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to wish for anything. After leaving home, I had no expectations. I was just going to try and live for as long as I could, but then I met you.

“I didn’t want to go on a crazy adventure, but I’m glad I did. I’m even glad those idiots Leorio and Kurapika tagged along. They’re not so bad once you get to know them, I guess. They even forgave me for lying to them. In the end, I discovered more on the road than I would’ve back in Ivywood.”

It’s true. Even though not even a single thing went right, Killua knows himself better now. He never valued others, but seeing Kurapika’s determination and Leorio’s surprising selflessness and Gon’s optimism showed Killua the importance of having people to lean on. His whole world has changed, so much so that he isn’t sure what to do now.

There are still countless problems to be dealt with, including Kurapika’s crew and the merchants chasing after Killua. Can he return home and act as if nothing has happened? Should he hunt down Illumi? It’s too much to think about. He’ll have to rethink his whole life all because of a single stolen vase.

“I’m sorry,” Killua whispers again, raising his head to study Gon’s face. He smiles faintly, brushing his fingertips over his tan cheek, like snow against amber. “That was a terrible thing to do… Kissing me and then disappearing. I can’t forgive you for that.”

His hand is trembling, so he presses it against the table. “I guess it’s time to say goodbye...” Killua has to close his eyes to hold back another wave of tears. “It was… really good to know you.”

Killua leans forward and presses his lips against Gon’s. It’s even warmer than before, this revenge kiss. Or maybe it’s a goodbye kiss. Whatever it is, it feels like he’s ripping out a part of himself and leaving it behind. He doesn’t even notice the overwhelming blue light until he opens his eyes and a blast of sparking blue energy knocks him straight off his feet.

As soon as the dust in the shrine has settled again, Killua shifts, groans, and takes stock of himself. Everything is sore, but nothing seems broken. The real problem, however, is what the _hell_ that was.

“...Killua?”

For a second, he thinks he must be hallucinating. But… can you even hallucinate voices? Killua reckons that you can, because there’s no other way he can be hearing Gon’s voice right now. Maybe he hit his head in that blast.

“Killua, are you okay?” If it is a hallucination, it’s a damn good one. A familiar face is hovering above him with a worried frown. _Gon_. His skin and eyes are so much brighter when he’s not semi-transparent.

“I’m going crazy or dying,” Killua mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s painful to see him. “I’m concussed.”

“You’re not crazy or dying. I guess you might have a concussion, but… Oh, what color is the sky? You know it’s blue, right? Ah, oh no… I wasn’t supposed to tell you. What color is grass?”

Killua tears his eyes open again. No hallucination can sound so authentic. He reaches up to grab Gon’s shoulder, and his hand collides with it solidly. “It’s... you. It’s really you.” He sits up fast enough to lose his balance, but he doesn’t care.

“Ouch, you’re strangling me,” Gon complains, but he’s laughing. The sound is the most relieving thing Killua has ever heard.

He debates pulling away, then asks his question into Gon’s neck. “ _How_ are you here? This isn’t a dream, right?” That’s the only thing he hasn’t ruled out yet.

“I don’t know how I’m here. It’s because of you, isn’t it?”

“ _Me_? How is it me?”

“Well… You kissed me, didn’t you?”

Killua’s face explodes in a blush that he’s grateful Gon can’t see. “You… were dead when I did that.”

“That sounds really bad, y’know.”

“You— You did it to me first! _Gah_ , that isn’t the point. Are you saying I somehow revived you just by kissing you? I’m not a witch or anything.”

“But I kissed you before,” Gon reminds him, as if he might’ve forgotten. “It’s a stretch but maybe, I don’t know, I gave my soul to you? Or something like that? And then you gave it back to me just now.”

“That’s insane.” Killua pushes him away, then pulls him closer again. He can’t help it. “That’s insane,” he repeats, more giddily this time. “So you’re really, really _alive_? You’re not a zombie?”

“I’m pretty sure. Here, feel.” Gon takes one of his hands and presses it against his chest. His heart is beating fast, and his palm is still warm. “See? It’s strong.” Killua tackles him again, and Gon bursts into bright, beautiful laughter. “Hey, how long are you going to hug me for?”

“Forever, you fucking idiot.” Killua presses his ear against Gon’s chest, releasing a shaky breath. “ _Forever_.”

***  *  *  *  ***

To say that Leorio, Kurapika, and Gon’s family are surprised would be a major understatement. Between the shock and the crying and the demand for explanations is Gon, who smooths things over with his nonchalant approach to the whole ‘resurrection-via-kiss’ thing.

Killua is still reeling by the time things die down again and he finally has a moment to himself. He sneaks out to the beach and sits a few feet back from the tide, tilting his head back to watch the stars. He traces constellations for a while, but his mind keeps wandering.

His luck’s been terrible for so long that it seems too good to be true. What kind of amazing luck _is_ that? That Gon kissing him would leave enough of him behind to bring him back? It’s like something out of a fairy tale.

“Killua.”

Killua closes his eyes and lets the voice resonate in his head for a while before glancing over his shoulder. “Gon... You followed me?”

“We haven’t really gotten to talk.” Gon sits beside him, their knees touching. It’s dream-like, that touch. “Mito told me you didn’t ask for a wish. Is that true?”

“I’ll tell you a secret: I really don’t want anything.” Killua falls on his back in the sand, waiting for Gon to do the same before he continues, “I think wishing for something is like cheating. If you want something, you should get it yourself.”

“Well… what do you want?”

“Right now?” Killua smiles at the sky. “More things than I thought I was capable of wanting. I want to figure stuff out with my family, and I want to help Kurapika deal with his crew, and I want to stay with you. But I don’t want to _wish_ for any of those things.”

“Well… I don’t know about the other things, but you can stay with me however long you want.” Gon squeezes his hand, the touch warm and solid. “I think I owe you something for helping me, and I have things I want, too. I just wanted to get back home, but now I think I want to see more of the world.” The stars are reflected in his shining eyes. “Maybe the four of us could stick together for a while.”

“Yeah?” Killua pauses. “I think… I might like that.”

***  *  *  *  ***

“They’ve agreed to give us passage to the island between this continent and the next. From there, we’ll have to find another ship.” After the speech, Kurapika pulls off his tabard and slips it through the arm of his backpack. (Why he chose to keep his borrowed clothes is a mystery: Killua and Leorio ditched theirs for plain clothes immediately.) “I didn’t expect the northern coast to be so humid,” Kurapika continues, fanning himself with their travel passes.

“Aren’t you a pirate?” Leorio asks incredulously, rolling up the sleeves of his white collared shirt, which he’s already sweating through. He finally ditched the police uniform when he found out he was keeping the company of an ex-assassin and a pirate captain, thank god.

“I avoid the north,” Kurapika replies acridly. “It’s full of religious nuts. No offense, Gon.”

“None taken. Should we go get settled on the ship?”

“Good idea. Let’s go, before I push Leorio off the dock."

The two continue bickering all the way up the gangplank. Killua and Gon eventually retreat to the upper decks to escape their antics, taking spots against the railing while they wait for the ship’s departure.

“We’re really doing it,” Gon says, grinning out at the glittering sea. “Visiting a new continent… I never would’ve dreamed of doing this before.”

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you into something.”

“Are you kidding? You’re not pressuring me into anything!” Gon bumps his shoulder lightly, lacing their fingers together against the ship railing. “Anywhere you go, I wanna go, too.”

“Yeah?” Killua cracks a smile. “Even if Kurapika and Leorio are there?”

“Even if Kurapika and Leorio are there,” Gon confirms, rolling his eyes. He squeezes Killua’s hand before glancing across the deck at them. “They’re not all that bad. They have good hearts, y’know.”

Killua shrugs. “Eh, I guess... They just need to resolve all that sexual tension between them before it suffocates us.”

Gon snorts, then bursts into loud, ringing laughter that makes Killua grin. The future is still uncertain, but it doesn’t really matter right now. Despite everything going on in his head, he knows with complete certainty that _this_ —the person standing beside him—is his future.


End file.
